Forget Today
by knirbenrots
Summary: The job sounded easy enough to Callen. Some days in a safe house. But easy jobs don't exist in their line of work. Sequel to 'Turn Back Time'. NO 'Nallen'-story!
1. Chapter 1

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 1**

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The job sounded easy enough to Callen. Some days in a safe house. But easy jobs don't exist in their line of work.  
Sequel to 'Turn Back Time'

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_disclaimer: I am well aware that I do not own any of the original characters of NCIS Los Angeles. They all belong to Shane Brennan&amp;CBS_

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"No way."

Callen stared at Granger, his bright blue eyes colder than the Assistant Director was used to. "It will be a perfect job for Kensi and Deeks."

The older man glared at the agents in front of him. Then he shook his head. "You know I need them in the field. Especially now Hanna is temporarily unavailable. It won't be a dangerous thing. Besides, you damn well know that I would never put the two of you in danger," Granger argued. "It'll be a short and easy mission."

"If it is such an easy job, why don't you send in Nell and Eric?" The team lead asked. Both his look as his stance were challenging, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he was leaning against the central table in the Ops Center.

"Wait. What?" Eric pushed up his glassed just a little higher to his nose and looked around nervously. "Me… Fieldwork? I'm sure you are not serious, are you, Callen?"

Granger shook his head. "Never mind, that's not going to happen Beale." He then turned to Nell and said "Go on with your briefing, Jones. After that, get ready for tomorrow. You will be joining agent Callen."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Pacific Coast Family Medical Group**

The scraping of the chair next to his bed didn't really wake him.  
Sam Hanna simply had closed his eyes because he was tired. He had been lying in this hospital bed for two days now and he'd hardly slept so far. The only thing his brain did was reliving what it was that had gone so wrong. Both he and Callen had thought this all seemed to be such an easy job.  
A sincere story, a phone call Sam got, followed by a warning from the CIA agent who'd accompanied the spy - the woman who sent him such a sweet smile. When did he get so sloppy to be distracted by a sweet smile? Sam Hanna swore to himself he'd never get distracted like this ever again.  
Because here he was. Shot at, operated on and out of business for at least three weeks. Far too long.

He slowly breathed out through his nose.

Without opening his eyes, Sam knew exactly how his partner now sat beside him. The chair would lean on its back legs and lean against the wall, while Callen would sit on it, completely relaxed in that stance.

"I know you're awake partner," Callen remarked.

His tired, brown eyes opened and Sam replied "No wonder I am awake. I literally sense your annoyance which grabbed my attention. It's attacking my 'zen'-mode".

"Bullshit. Mind you, I'm not irritated. Just—restless. Perhaps a tiny bit displeased."

The large man hoisted himself up as far as possible and pressed the button which elevated the head end of the bed. "Since you're here and not at home there's probably something you only want to share with your best friend forever." Sam chuckled, then continued: "What can I do for you, Sir?"

The slightest smirk appeared on Callen's face, then it was gone and replaced by a hardly noticeable wiggle of his jaw. Sam recognized it and again he asked "Tell me, what's bothering you?"

There was no hesitation "Granger wants me to team up with Nell. Easy job, he says. Some days in a safe house, accompanying a couple who were the targets of an assassination attempt."

"Sounds nearly as boring as working on your inbox at the office. What is it you don't like about it?"

"Dunno."

"Is it the job or are you not sure about working with Nell, G?" Sam asked. He knew his partner, his habits and his trust issues. So far, both of them had worked with Nell, albeit as a team of three.

"If there's no other way, yeah." Callen sighed. "Still, she looked pretty uncomfortable with it, you know. Nervous too."

Sam let his thoughts go and suggested "If she is, perhaps you could convince Granger to mix up the team. Deeks has worked with Nell before, they could do it, while Kensi and you—"

The younger man shook his head. "No. It'll be good for Nell. Maybe it's working with me that's making her act differently from how I know her. She's a great field agent too, we've all seen that. She needs to learn to trust her own capabilities. An easy job like this will only contribute to that trust, and I can coach her."

"There is a 'still' you don't want to share buddy."

Callen was quiet for a second, then he said "Granger wanted Becca to work with me. I refused. How's that for trusting—my partner?"  
There was more, a gut feeling he couldn't put his finger on.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"You don't want this," Nell simply stated, watching the senior agent who drove his Mercedes to their temporary home as she wet her lips nervously. "I can sense it."

He glanced at the young woman and sent her a sincere smile. Then his focus was on the road again but he explained: "It's not that Nell. I know you're good at whatever it is you're doing. Your work as an analyst enables us all to work in the field the way we do. I trust the way you worked in the field yourself too. What I need you to do is to trust yourself. Right now."

"Still… You don't want this, Callen. It would never be your first choice to work with me," she softly repeated. "l'm just the replacement of a suggested replacement and you first suggested—"

"I know what I suggested." It sounded nearly harsh and Callen added "I trust you, Nell. It's just something… I don't know what." He sent her a quick half smile and changed the subject. "These Johnsons, they know we're coming, right?"

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_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 2**

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_Thank you all for your reviews on chapter 1!_

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A/N: To those who expect a 'Nallen' story – no, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that was never-ever my intention.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_**Previously **_

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Nell was not too sure why Callen had reacted so harsh. The only persons she'd ever seen him mad at were Hunter, Granger and Hetty. And Nell knew all too well that even though Callen had sounded rude, it wasn't anything personal. So far, he'd always been kind and calm with her around. Granger's suggestion had been the wrong one, although perhaps Granger had meant to be kind. After all Callen had to work without Sam and all of them knew how bad Callen felt that Sam had been shot.

She took a deep breath and started explaining while putting up screen footage "We've got Maureen and Abe Johnson, living on South Carmelia Avenue in Brentwood, were attacked and shot at in broad daylight. This just happened two hours ago. LAPD sent us the footage and asked us to take this case."

"How's that?" Kensi asked. "He's Navy?"

It was Eric who shook his head. "He isn't. He's the manager of one of the commercial helicopter services in town. 'Moonlight'. Private jet charters, air taxi services. She was Navy. Quit her job nearly two months ago."

"Woow. A girl with guts. Or in her case a woman with balls. Don't we all love that," Deeks remarked, looking around as if he hoped it would soothe Callen's mood slightly. There was no response whatsoever so he continued "But wait. She 'was' or she 'is'?"

"Maureen Johnson was. She was one of US SouthCom," Nell clarified "That's the United States Southern Command. As you know SouthCom is responsible for several operations in Central and South America."

"What was her task in there?" Callen wanted to know.

Nell looked at her handheld computer "Managing the security Cooperation Offices," she read. Then she looked up and added "she was in command of the counter narco-terrorism operations."

Deeks let out a long whistle.

"Do we know why she quit?" Kensi asked.

"Nope." Eric turned to Callen and smiled. "If Hetty was around she'd probably mention that you should find out about that."

The lead agent sent a short smile back. "Well, Hetty won't be around since she's trying to negotiate with some of the leaders in the Ukraine matter. She visited Sam yesterday, by the way." He paused a second. Mostly, it was easy to share the tasks and divide in two teams. "LAPD's with them at the moment, right?"

It was Eric who confirmed this "One of the Hanover South apartments, downtown."  
Callen continued. "Perfect. If so, we'll forget this day and make a start with this case tomorrow morning. Deeks, Kensi, the two of you could go and inform with Johnson's former superiors. The usual thing".

"Right. Special cases, enemies, things like that. We'll inform if anyone knows why she unlisted too," Kensi understood.

He nodded. "LAPD might tell you more about witnesses and so on. Eric?"

"Yeah. I can work on that. Will let you know whatever I find out."

He nodded. "Then let's call it a day. Nell, I'll pick you up in here at seven tomorrow morning. Make sure you're ready."

Her answer was brief. "Of course I will."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Veteran Avenue, 631 || Los Angeles**

Callen took the pair of handcuffs he kept in his kitchen drawer and two cold bottles of beer from his fridge, then stepped outside to the deck behind his house.

Still standing, he hooked the handcuffs under the cap of the bottle and levered it off. A smile appeared on his face as he handed it to Rebecca Belgrave, who had settled on the deck with some cushions already.

"Thanks", she said, looking up at him with those grey eyes of hers. "So, you won't be around for how many days did you say?"

"At least five nights," Callen answered as he uncapped his own bottle in the same way as hers. He chuckled shortly, explaining immediately after that "It's not those nights away I was thinking of, it's these." He let the cuffs swing in his hands. "It's me, actually. For years I told the others that I had this rule, you know, like 'if they've got their own handcuffs, I'm out'. Yet here we are."  
He sipped some of the cold liquid as he sat down next to her. "Five nights at least," he repeated.

She shrugged "It's alright. George and I will stay at the 'Rebel' then." The yacht she had lived on for the past six years was now in the Marina, not too far from the boathouse. "Ike will take care too, you know."  
By now, Rebecca knew all too well how worried Callen was about the boy – their son. It had to do with his name, George, and with living with Callen. So, no matter they all knew it should be George Callen, to them and the rest of the world the boy's name was George Belgrave. And yes, Callen had explained it all.

Both of them were quiet for a while. "Granger wanted you to work with me."

"He did? Odd. He knows I am not cleared for field duty yet. Besides, I thought I made it clear to him that I don't want to work with you. Just in case something… well you know. George should have at least one of us around. That's the deal, right?"

"Like I said. Well, perhaps I uttered it slightly different."

"I bet you did," she smiled. "Who's gonna be with you, Deeks?"

He chuckled again. "I don't think I could work with him for a full week, day in – day out. Nope. It'll be with Nell."

Callen noticed how she raised her brows. "She's great in the field Becca. Nothing to worry about. Besides, Granger thinks it's an easy job. We're simply staying with some people until they're either ready to go back home, safely, or the case is closed, or, if they prefer, decide they'll stay in a protective surroundings. My guess is two and one."

The broad smile reached her eyes when she retorted "It's not up to you to close the case, working from a safe house, Callen."

He shook his head. "Nêh. Forget about tomorrow and the days to come. Let's enjoy today."

His bad boy grin made clear what his thoughts were and Rebecca gladly put the bottle aside.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He'd fallen asleep easy this night, like he always did after great making love. It was only some hours later when he woke up, startled by nothing more but a feeling.

* * *

I dreamed I was missing  
You were so scared  
But no one would listen  
'Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming  
I woke with this fear  
What am I leaving  
When I'm done here?

So if you're asking me  
I want you to know  
When my time comes  
Forget the wrong that I've done  
Help me leave behind some  
Reasons to be missed  
And don't resent me  
And when you're feeling empty  
Keep me in your memoryLeave out all the rest

~Leave out all the rest~ [LinkinPark]

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_Thank you for reading. I'd love to read your thoughts! The chapter is not too long, but it explains some of the backgrounds..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 3**

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Thank you, Linda, Ilse, Skippy, Vicki, Theresa, Keesha, Eva, Blackbear and BlueDogsRock for leaving your reviews! They're very welcome, as ever…

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen had hardly slept at all. Ever since Rebecca and George had moved in, the sleeping part had been okay and he couldn't figure out why this night had been different. He got up early and a cool ocean breeze, an early morning sweaty run and a warm shower afterwards made him feel better. He wasn't that good in leaving, so he simply kissed Becca goodbye and left his place.  
On his way to pick up Nell, he stopped by at Jacks-N-Joe for a take-away breakfast with a big coffee for himself. He knew Nell was very strict as it came to her own breakfast and she'd probably made her own before he'd meet her at the office.

Though he did take this job seriously, like he always did, everyone wás right. It sounded easy. He sighed slightly. Working without Sam would be different. In fact, he could hardly remember when this had happened before, apart from the time Sam and Deeks had been hospitalized after the brutal torture of Sidorov and his men. This time healing would take longer. Callen knew – he'd been there too.  
Right now, it would be more like a good opportunity to coach Nell in the field.

Callen skillfully drove the grey Mercedes through the ever jammed traffic on the tangle of highways and freeways. Continuing in this pace, it would take at least a quarter of an hour before they would reach downtown.  
"These Johnsons know we're coming, right?" Callen asked Nell.

"Of course they do." Nell shrugged deeper in the comfortable passenger chair of the Mercedes. "Well, not US, but the Johnsons know there will be two NCIS agents to replace those of LAPD."

He nodded. "So, what do you think about the way you and I should work our way in there?"

"We can't simply interrogate them, right? I mean, they're victims of a crime after all."

Again, Callen nodded, this time in confirmation. "But..." He wanted Nell to think about it longer.

The younger woman bit her lower lip. "We can ask them anything we want to know of course. Like Kensi and Deeks try to find out about their enemies, we can do that too. No interrogation, just polite asking without any accusatory tone, that is our part of the case I guess."

"Uh-huh," he answered. "Questioning them will be alright. Make them feel they can rely on us. On the other hand, your and mine personal life should stay personal. Make sure there will be no relationship whatsoever when you're with people who may be or go in witness-protection Nell. No matter what one tries. Emotions, irritation or the contrary of it, moments of affection - avoid everything."

"Okay," she said. She let out a silent sigh. Sure, they could do this. After all, Callen was a seasoned agent and the two of them should manage. "Is it true we are not allowed to contact any of our friends and colleagues?"

He let some breath escape through his nose to show his frustration. "Well, there's no time to go and visit each other, but you sure can call. Skype. Our lines are secured, and you of all people know about that, so, why not?"

Nell sent him a smile. "Good for you. And for George and Rebecca."

Callen hummed. "For Sam too."

"And I can use my appliances as well?" She smiled gratefully.

He sent her a rare open smile. "Nell, of course you can. It's not that you're staying locked up in there. Perhaps you even have to use whatever it is you took with you.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

Callen took his go bag and another gym bag from the back seat and offered to take Nell's small suitcase as well. There was another large laptop case and Callen knew it carried at least one laptop but definitely more geeky material and appliances in it. She carried that one herself, and also a very posh light green, large handbag.

"Definitely not my natural surroundings," he remarked as the two of them entered the spacy reception area, all designed in grey walls with shiny darker grey tiles on the floor.

The young red-haired woman smiled at him. She obviously appeared feeling more at home than Callen did. She pressed the button next to the elevator as she said "Sixth floor, Callen. Apartment 6.17 to be exact."

So far Callen had seen and been in many safe houses in town, but this one was new to him. Luxurious. Perhaps to host only the wealthier part of Los Angeles' inhabitants.

He showed his ID and badge to the LAPD officer in front of the apartment they were about to enter. "How're things in here?" he wanted to know.

"The two of them are inside. This morning they've been arguing, despite the fact that my colleagues were around," the officer said. "I think we'll gladly leave the case to you to handle," he concluded with a smile. The officer then took a key card to open the door and guided them in, then left immediately after.

The apartment itself was even more flamboyant than he thought. Callen simply dropped the luggage he carried near the doors. Then he and Nell walked on, entering the kitchen area. The LAPD officers, of whom was explained they were eager to get away, were at the breakfast bar, sipping from a cup of coffee.  
Behind the glass separation wall, Callen overlooked the large living room where he saw two other people. Each seated on a couch of their own, each not communicating with each other, Callen noticed.

He nodded at the two LAPD officers but he left it to Nell to introduce them. "Agents Jones and Callen, NCIS. We're here to sit in for you. Are there any specific things you want or need to share before you leave?"

The oldest of both men shook his head as he explained "They were, how shall I put it, entertaining like they were."  
He took some papers which he handed Nell. "Just some quick reports. Handwritten that is." A grin reached his eyes when he concluded "Have fun with them. Both of them behaved terribly." He slowly finished his coffee and made his co-worker wait some minutes. Awkward minutes in which Nell simply read and Callen just waited too, without speaking, observing the home and its surroundings.

Then Nell signed the paperwork and handed back the copy to the officer. Both detectives got up, took their bags from the hallway and left with a short greet.

"With the information this detective Mattell just mentioned, how do you think we should play this?" Nell asked in a quiet voice.

"Like we discussed before. A nice introduction. We'll see where that's leading us to. Get to know them. After all... Granger talked about five nights. That's a long time, Nell".

He walked to the room-high window in the kitchen and sighed deeply. "Who-ever called this apartment a safe-house definitely never heard of snipers," Callen figured. "I mean, look at it. About every single other building could look into this one."

Nell was surprised by how talkative the agent in charge was. She wasn't used to it, he mostly was the one who made the quick decisions so the team could go to work. On the other hand Nell understood how Callen might feel about snipers nowadays.

"But it is well thought of. If these Johnsons stay in the living room, kitchen and in the inner-circle bedroom, they'll be safe." She looked around once again and nodded again, more or less in confirmation to what she just said. "And maybe the glass is bulletproof," she added.

He really didn't want to upset her or keep feeling bad because he felt he partly failed his partner earlier that week, but it simply disturbed him to be in this place. There was more to it than the view. Again, he sighed deeply, then made his voice sound calm again and motioned to the living room. "Let's go."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Maureen Johnson's face was pale and with dark circles under her blue eyes she looked intensely tired. Callen realized that for many men, she was a very attractive woman. With her platinum blonde hair and her figure she looked more like a Hollywood movie-star than a former navy officer.  
The woman was tensed, more than one would expect from someone who had been in charge of managing some security offices. He wondered if something else than the shooting troubled her.  
Something he and Nell should be able to find out more about.

Abe was a very tall man with slightly bolding, brown hair. Callen estimated Abe was about his own age, maybe some years older. He, like his wife, was well dressed. Although he wore a dark jeans, combined with a light pink button-down shirt and a blazer, all of it shouted 'money', Callen observed. He understood how those two people would live together and entertain their friends. On the other hand - their careers were, or had been, very different and they probably had been living more apart than together. And, different from one might think, Abe Johnson appeared to be more relaxed about the situation they were in than his wife.

All in control, Nell introduced themselves politely.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen stood in the dark bedroom. The sound and feel of the air-conditioning irritated him and he'd turned it off earlier. Right now, the room was warm, too warm. He opened the window and the sounds of the ever busy traffic entered his room. He'd taken off his shirt, shoes and socks and enjoyed to feel the cool tiles beneath his bare feet.

He dialed the number he knew by heart. It took only two rings before he heard the voice he wanted to hear.

"Hey," he greeted.

-"Geca," she responded. "How's your day been?"

He smiled. She still used that name every now and then. It had been his codename once, a decade ago.  
"You know... Long. Uncomfortable in fact."

From the first moment Nell and he introduced themselves, he had smelled it. Alcohol. Too much of it made a person smell like this, and it made Callen decide to ask Eric if it he could find out if it was the reason for Maureen's resignation, or a result of it, or something else. Both Johnson's were not really cooperative.  
No, they both hadn't seen who targeted them. Yes, both of them were glad they survived and grateful to be in here, protected like they were. No, they did not know how Abe eventually had stopped their car without crashing into the other traffic and without getting themselves hurt. Yes, they had left the car, trying to hide from whoever it was that shot at it, at them. And no, they did not get a chance to look back. They kept themselves out of danger until LAPD had shown up, at least a quarter of an hour later, they estimated.  
All in all, it was about the same as what Nell had read in the reports earlier that day and so far, Deeks and Kensi had no new information either.

Callen didn't need to discuss the case right now and Rebecca knew. In the background Callen heard the excited voice of George babbling, followed by the deep sounds when Ike Finley, the large built, former policeman, responded. He also heard seagulls. "You moved already to the yacht," he concluded.

-"Uh-huh. The boys are planning on night-fishing," Rebecca said.

"Sounds great," Callen said. Although he was grateful that Rebecca and George could always rely on the older man, he realized that it would takes ages to find more time to spend with his new family. Sam was a natural in that role, he'd seen that. Callen on the other hand never had a role model father. He had to learn all of it. Soon. There were ten years to catch up with. "You think he wants to talk with me?"

-"Sure. I'll just get him on the phone."

"Thanks. Wait." He paused a while before he asked "And you? Any plans?"

-"Thought about visiting a former friend in town. Haven't seen her in ages," she said.

Callen understood. There were ten years to catch up with her as well before he would be confident enough to ask more about this. Then he quickly put away this thought when the young boy started talking to him about fishing and how he'd love to do that with his dad, soon.

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_Thanks for reading. As ever, your reviews are very welcome!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 4**

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Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is this storyline and its original characters.

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A/N Thank you all for those wonderful reviews so far on this story!  
For your information: The names used in this storyline are just made up. Any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, events or firms, is purely coincidental. And for those of you who forgot – this story is a sequel to 'Turn back Time' in which in the last chapters Callen discovers about a son.

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

As mostly, he was wide awake far before 4.30 in the morning.

The city was still asleep and for some quiet minutes, Callen simply stood in front of the panoramic window of the room he had claimed.

Without any noise at all he then did some floor exercises, took a shower and headed for the kitchen area.

He opened some doors of the kitchen cupboards and was surprised they were so well provisioned. He took some slices of bread, put them in the toaster and made himself a cup of coffee.  
Then he took his laptop from the go-bag as well as the card reader NCIS provided their personnel with. He plugged his Common access Card into the card reader, pressed his personal code and entered the secured system of his agency.

The latest reports Eric had entered appeared on screen. It contained the statements of witnesses and pictures of the crime-scene. He started with the pictures. From what the Johnson's had told the other day, the car Abe Johnson had been driving, was shot at from the front and probably from a higher position . Callen carefully observed the seven different pictures that were on display, then took a notebook and started to make some sketches.

He also read the preliminary reports of the LAPD and some of the notes Deeks had added to the file late last night. Although to Callen it did not really sound too bad, maybe for a normal citizen a shooting like this was very scary. And with Maureen's career it was a good thing that she was protected like she was right now.

He looked up from his laptop and poured himself another coffee. With both hands around the warm cup, he stood in front of the large window, staring over the large road beneath him.

_Why_, he wondered, _would anyone want to kill any of this couple?_ If Maureen indeed knew any secrets from her former work, why aim to kill?

Was it her they were after or could it be her husband who spooked someone? And had it been a kill shot at all?

Again, he read the files the office had so far.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Splitting them up?" Nell asked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Positively. So far, they're not talking. It doesn't make sense. You and I, we know nothing about them. Kensi and Deeks found out nothing about them. Eric hardly found anything."

She nodded and showed him the message on her phone. Eric had texted that Abe Johnson lately had been seen with another woman, said to be his secretary. "This might be something to ask." She scrolled a bit further and quietly read "Some time ago Maureen has filed charges to one of Johnson's co-workers for stalking her."

Callen leaned against the breakfast bar like he used to do at the operations center, his hands in the pockets of the jeans this time. "If we, or anyone else, want to protect them, now and in future, we need to know what happened, why and who a shooter aimed at, right?"

Again, Nell nodded. She nibbled on an apple while she thought of a way to work through this day. "Guess it'll be a long day."

He hummed, confirming her remark. Then he stretched and walked around the isle. He definitely needed another cup of coffee and he supposed that went for the others as well.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The soft, nearly lavender blue eyes of Maureen stared at Callen. He – as ever, managed to keep his gaze unblinking.

"So you know about everything that happened?" she asked. He had just asked her about the stalking history.

He kindly smiled and responded "Well, not everything of course. Which is why we're having this conversation.

Callen noticed how her gaze went from his face to the kitchen bar, where Nell smiled at the large man who sat opposite of her, hidden from any possible observers, as she and Callen had checked earlier on.

Then Maureen lowered her voice as she starting talking. "It happened a while ago, maybe two years. Bart Lewis was Abe's assistant. Or rather, he considered Abe as his wingman. When I was working abroad, it was always Bart who was joining Abe. During the periods I was in town, I noticed Bart started following me. Abe was furious when I mentioned it. He told me I was imagining it. The first time he convinced me he'd talk with Bart and well, I was away for a six week period and I nearly forgot."  
Again, she looked him in the eyes and heaved a deep sigh. "During those three weeks in LA I thought I saw him again, following my car. I managed to lose the tail and didn't see him afterwards. Then he showed up at Aruba. A friend of mine in there noticed it too. That is when I did file charges. She convinced me to do so, and she even tried to convince Abe about it as well. He still didn't believe me, nor did he believe her. Anyway, soon after, this guy Bart Lewis disappeared".

Again, Callen sent her an encouraging smile. "And you never saw him again?"

She shrugged, nearly shaky "I think I saw him yesterday."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Nell peeked through the internal window that separated the kitchen area from the living space. She noticed how Callen managed to keep a distance, yet appeared to have a serious conversation with the woman in the large living room. Despite of what he had told Nell before, he did seem perfectly at ease in the modern and luxurious place.  
How little did she know of his personal life so far. Different from the others in their team he mostly distanced himself from the Friday night's out. Sometimes they went for a drink, on other nights they'd watch a movie at Kensi's place.  
Sam once told Nell that his partner preferred to be alone, reading a book or go for a run on a quiet part of the beach. Oh, and he did go out, Sam had mentioned. But preferably alone, and every now and then with Deeks.  
Lately his attitude changed, and she and the others of the team knew it was because of the family life that seemed to 'just happen', and it suited him so well.

"Something you want to share?" Abe Johnson said. The young woman who sat opposite of him definitely went through some inner thoughts which, of course, he knew she was not about to tell him about.  
The hazel eyes of the agent widened just a little, then she cleared her throat and told him "It's nothing." She observed the man for some quiet seconds, which then made him look away. Was it something he was hiding for her, for them, for his wife? Nell then continued "Were you surprised LAPD suggested to stay a while in a safe house?"

The man yawned, then sent her a quick smile which, she saw, never reached his eyes. "With Maureen's secrets? No, not really. There are many things she refuses to share, even with me. Perhaps there are many things she went through, perhaps not. I really can't say."

"How did you feel when she resigned from active duty? I mean, you aren't used to be around each other all the time." She wanted to know so many things, but Nell knew it was no interrogation. "Just curiosity of course," she added. "And in the end, you might be missing some business transfers as well."

Abe stood up from the stool he sat on and stretched his legs. Nell shook her head and said "You shouldn't stand this near to the window."

He then turned to face her. "My company has over 35 employees of whom 28 work full-time. I am the CEO, the general manager of 'Moonlight', but when I am not around there is an executive board who takes care of the business. So, agent Jones, there are no worries about that."

Nell understood "No worries about your enterprise, I get it. And the other way around? Will they be worried about what happened?"

Johnson narrowed his eyes and answered "We'll have to find out about that, won't we?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

In his usual grumpy style, Granger addressed the junior detectives who had been working with Eric. "By now you will know that Beale in here has it all under control. Shouldn't the two of you be working in the field?"

Eric turned from the screen he'd be staring at and got up to join Deeks and Kensi. "Sir, we—"

"You just found out more about 'Moonlight', right?" Granger interrupted.

The techie hummed nervously. It felt like Granger, like Hetty, had developed a special sense to show up at the moment you expected them less. "That's right."

Deeks came to help the younger technical analyst. "I smell danger, Granger." He then continued more seriously: "Eric did dive in the internal and inside information of this business of Abe Johnson."

"And?" Granger interrupted again, irritable because he too was trying to put his finger on something that might shed more light on this case.

"There's the financial part of this company that doesn't seem right. Even more, there are two highly placed employees of 'Moonlight' who disappear every now and then for a longer period. So far, we have no evidence on if Abe Johnson knows about their whereabouts. All we have is two names that stand out. Edward McGill and Fredo Agnelli. Agnelli is a member of the executive board of the company, responsible for finances and planning, while McGill is the real planner, responsible for logistics too. There were just some anomalies."

"See if you can find out more. Visit the company. Ask around," Granger said to the two field agents. "Meanwhile, Beale, you inform your partner about this."

Eric frowned. "My partner, sir?"

Granger nodded and added "Send these details to Nell Jones. She'll know what to do with it."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

Nell shared not only what Abe Johnson told her but also explained about Abe's behavior. During his conversation with Maureen, Callen had observed how the young and small agent was talking to Johnson and he had caught the man's unease. He was glad Nell noticed it as well and even better, that she was able to interpret it.  
"There's nothing new he told me Callen", Nell said, soft enough not to be overheard by the Johnsons. She glanced at the couple who were now together in the living room. Maureen had curled up on one couch and was watching something on television. Her husband had taken the other couch and nearly disappeared completely behind a newspaper.

"Never mind, Nell. Like we discussed before, we've got no reason to interrogate them. Leave them be. Take some time to relax. Read something, exercise," Callen suggested.  
Although the nagging feeling that one of these Johnsons was hiding something for them, perhaps for each other as well, never left, Callen also realized that one of them would explain more during those days. He sent Nell one of the half smiles she liked so well and said "We'll see if we can loosen them up tonight. Some wine or beer can do magic."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Some hours later, Callen had taken one of the stools in the kitchen again and shared some of this case with Sam with his cellphone. After disconnecting, he kept smiling because despite the cranky talk of his partner, there had been some of the usual banter as well. Just as he was about to call home, Abe Johnson joined him and walked to the fridge to check it for anything drinkable.

The man raised his brows, then asked "So, you are allowed to do some phone calls?"  
There was something in his voice that made Callen intuitively look up. "I suppose you were told not to do so?" he responded.

All Abe did was tilt his head slightly, then he turned to the fridge again. When he finally faced Callen again, he said "I left my phone in the car, I think."

Callen nodded. "You understand that all we're doing in here is to prevent that your wife is forced to leak any classified military information to whoever it may be that was behind this shooting."

"I get it," Abe said. He then took a bottle of beer and went back to the living room where, once again, he hid behind a newspaper.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Dinner had been an easy one. All they could choose from was pre-cooked meat with fried potatoes, frozen pizza that had to be heated, or a pasta salad, combined with a mix of vegetables. During this meal, Callen had casually mentioned Edward McGill and Fredo Agnelli, the names Eric had let Nell know of. It was clear that Abe Johnson disliked to talk about his work, but that went for Maureen too.

When her phone bleeped, Nell read the incoming message which was short. She looked up, surprised, and showed Callen. His face unreadable, he addressed Maureen "Your phone has been used twice, today, for short outgoing calls."

"But I… it was in my purse. Which was in the car," Maureen said. "I don't have it."

He slowly breathed out, as ever hiding his irritation. He took his own phone and left to the kitchen. He was about to re-read the digital file and see what was in it when a subconscious feeling made him get up and walk to the large window.

Again, his gut feel had been right. A group of six men stepped out of a van. Definitely armed. Definitely headed to the entrance of the building he was in right now.

Definitely not good.

And so he pressed the number he knew by heart.

* * *

_Thank you for reading. I do hope you take some time to leave a review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 5**

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a/n Marvelous reviews y'all left so far, Karine, Skippy, Eva, Linda, Susan, Vicki, Wotumba, Ilse, Hoosier and Katie. It was really a pleasure to read them! I certainly hope this chapter won't disappoint ;-)

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

"Owen, we need back-up. Now," Callen nearly growled. There simply was no time to explain it all. He knew Eric was able to trace his or Nell's phone anyway. "Got six men, maybe more, coming our way and we'll have to find or fight our way out."  
He then disconnected, grabbed his gun and his go-bag in which he had a spare one with ammunition. He then hurried to the three others. "We gotta go now," he hollored.

One look at Nell assured him she understood without any more words what was going on. Her face hardened and he now saw a field agent who handled this case professionally.  
Callen continued "There's no backdoor. You take them up till you reach the roof. Shoot to kill." He handed Maureen his spare gun. "Do what you have to do. Go."  
He read the questions in the younger agent's eyes. "We've got at least six coming up. I'll try to stop as many of them from here. Help is on its way Nell. We can do this."

He softly opened the door and ushered them out. None of the others protested and they quietly disappeared in the dim light of the staircase.

Soon after, Nell heard the shooting start and she prepared herself for what was to come.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**5607, ****Keniston Avenue || Los Angeles**

His phone gave the recognizable sound of a didgeridoo.

Not good, Deeks knew. Especially since, from between an empty pizza box and some tissues, another phone softly rang.  
"Kensi," his partner answered, her gaze at Deeks' sudden serious frown as he listened at what he heard. Kensi noticed how he quickly responded "The ten, forty-five and the one eighty-seven... In twenty, I hope. LAPD is informed as well?" He listened shortly, his phone now clamped between his shoulder and his chin as Deeks put on his boots.  
"Right. Kensi's on her way already."

She shook her head. Granger probably knew they spent their time together since Eric must've put the GPS' on his screen. It didn't matter now. What mattered were their friends, their co-workers in the field.

Kensi only knew for sure that if Callen asked for help, things were bad indeed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

It was still warm – or was it the stress she suffered from? The stairwell ended three storeys up with an escape door, which Nell had easily opened. Once on the rooftop, she spotted the cross-over bridge which led to the cooling tower of the building's airco. She gestured at the Johnsons to hide behind the tower. The couple reacted rather subdued and, what surprised her most, nearly in unison.

Nell knew that, with her job right now, she was the one to protect the Johnsons, no matter what. She tried to make herself invisible with the door ajar right now.

Callen had said he'd seen six men. All she hoped was that she did not have to stop all six of them.  
The shooting at the sixth floor stopped just as sudden as it started and it literally sickened Nell that she was in here, not knowing what was going on. What if…  
She really didn't want to go there. Callen had told her help was on its way and she had to trust on that.

Louder than anyone should, at least two persons were pounding the stairs in their direction. Which was not good.

Nell firmly clasped her gun and breathed in deeply. She had to be ready.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

The young tech nervously pushed his glasses up. He had worked until nearly six o' clock, went home to have dinner and was about to get ready for a game-night with some of his MIT-mates when a message on his phone screen appeared.

And here he was, back behind his screens again, knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. Sure, Eric had all camera angles around the Hanover apartment building covered. Sure, he had tried to identify the van, even though there were no number plates noticed. Sure, he had several computer programs running - facial recognition, Kaleidoscope, traffic cams from the previous half hour, whatever. And sure, he hoped there was more he could do with the phone company. A program was running already to see which calls came in and which had been outgoing. Till now, he only knew Maureen had lied about the loss of her phone, or had she not?  
It was good concentrating on the things he could handle.

There were, however, too many facts that he could not cover.  
Between the phone-call Callen made to Granger and the moment he was once again checking the screens was at least a quarter of an hour. And until now, there was no news.  
The big nothing, in capitals.  
Nothing from Kensi and Deeks, nothing from LAPD and even worse, nothing from the 'fearless team lead' Callen. But worst of all, in Eric's humble opinion, there was nothing he heard so far from Nell.

Thinking of what could happen in this short period made Eric literally sick. He put all camera angles on one big screen, breathed in deeply and watched. He had to be ready.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

She braced herself for what was to come next. Just when she was about to get up to start doing what she had to do – shoot – Nell heard movement behind her as well.  
"Is it you, Steve?" Abe Johnson's loud voice sounded from behind her. It made Nell turn to where she left Johnson, knowing deep down though that it was in vain.  
He was not there. In fact, he stood quite close to her, a gun in his right hand, pointed at her. The same gun Callen had handed Maureen only minutes ago.

To Nell, things went from bad to seriously-disturbing-bad.

Yes, Callen had expressed his intuitive bad feeling which Granger had initially waved away, saying it had to do with Sam being unavailable.  
His bad feeling, which Nell only partly had understood, thinking Callen didn't trust her as a serious partner.  
Even his restless effort of denying the gut feel and blame it on the building had to do with the couple in the end. Because with these few words Abe just spoke to the other men who came up, it proved Callen had been right about this case, about the Johnsons.  
He'd known all the time some things might be different from what they all expected.

Some things were off, worse than Nell thought she could ever handle. Because why, for heaven's sake, had Callen handed Maureen a gun? The same gun that Abe Johnson now held - pointed at her. Why, for heaven's sake, had Maureen agreed on handing it to her husband?  
Abe Johnson had known he was expecting someone, because Abe Johnson had been the one who called in the others.

The gun was still pointed at her. "Drop yours, agent Jones." His eyes hardened and Abe Johnson suddenly showed a whole different persona. Still, Nell doubted. If she did not, would she manage to get away unscratched? Would she? Would help really show up in seconds from now? What was going to happen if she did what Abe asked her to do? Wasn't he going to shoot her anyway?  
It must have been written over her face as it was Maureen who than spoke in a calm but steady voice "You'd better do what he says." She then addressed her husband "Promise me you won't kill her."

All that came as an answer was a short huff. "For now, she's our ticket out of here, don't you get it?"

Slower than her brain ever worked, Nell got what the two of them said. As in a haze, she slowly kneeled and put her gun down. Then she got up again and saw how the guy called Steve shove it far from reach with his left foot. Abe continued talking to her "Now, be a good girl and do what I ask. Steve and Thomas in here will stay in front, you'll follow. Stick closely between Thomas and me. As soon as you change pace, be sure you'll be punished for that."  
She simply nodded as an answer. Far –far too far away – Nell heard the sirens of a police car. It would not be in time, the group would have managed to be downstairs and outside before it would reach the building. It was a safe house, so there had to be camera's everywhere. On the inside and out.

Nell swallowed when they reached the sixth floor. There were three dark, large shadows she saw. None of them moving. Three bodies. Six shots – two deadly shots in each body. Callen's trademark.

Then came the inevitable moment her head automatically was drawn to the door of the apartment where they had been staying.  
The door that was wide opened.

Because it was true.  
It was a sight Nell hoped she'd never be confronted with. Never. Yet here was what she feared what happened indeed.  
Because it was true.

Sprawled on the floor lie the body of Callen. Face down, a dark stain which she knew it must be blood, beneath his motionless body.

* * *

_Are you still in a state of mind to review? Please leave your thoughts - as you all know, reviews are welcome!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of NCIS Los Angeles; they belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is this storyline and its original characters.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Hanover South apartments || Los Angeles**

Was it her own voice that screamed or were it voices from farther in this building, from other habitants? Short but sharp gasps of horror escaped her lips and Nell knew it. Her knees buckled and her vision blurred. Tears did that.  
Then there was the gun which prodded her neck, urging her to walk past the body of the man she had admired all those years. The one who had made her nervous enough, whose sentences she finished when she'd first came to work with the NCIS agency in Los Agency. The mystery man, the agent, the one his enemies had described as a ghost, as someone who could disappear in a blink of the eye, become unseen. The one she had felt safe with, no matter what happened.

_How can I explain this?_ She felt her heart twitch. Callen never wanted to be here. He had been sent. How could she ever live with this, how could the others live with this?

"Walk. Keep walking," Abe Johnson snarled. "You know your job might be risky. This is the result of the risk he took. Consider it collateral damage. Like the three we've lost were collateral too."

From behind Abe, Nell thought she heard a shaky sigh. Nell's thoughts were none she would or could share at this moment. All she knew was that she did not know _**how**_ she could face anyone of the team again, if she'd ever got the chance.

Two more floors, four more stairs to descend. Stumbling over thoughts, stumbling down, not knowing where she'd end up.

"Remember what you promised, Abe. We let her go. No matter her job, it's not upon us to get rid of another federal agent."

Then the man they called Steve passed the large lobby area and opened the door to the street. He gestured into the dark and an engine started running. There must have been a person behind the wheel all the time. The van came slowly driving their way and the others stood for a while, waiting so it seemed. The moment Nell was about to look over her shoulder not knowing why they weren't moving, the gun – the same one Callen had handed Maureen – came down with a lot of force. There was no way to avoid the severe hit and she went down without a sound.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Nell – Nell."  
She díd hear a friendly female voice she heard before. But then, Nell did not want to know. Did not want to hear. Did not want to be here.

"Rubylocks. Little Red Ridinghood… C'mon Nell, we need you."  
Deeks' stupid remarks. Stupid. Stupid. Nell did not want to hear him. Did not want to be needed. She needed. Then she let out a sudden sob, accepting the soft hug from her friend Kensi.

"He's gone Kenz. Gone." Nell starting crying.

"It's alright Nell. We're all in here." Her eyes opened, wide and teary and in awe when she heard Callen's voice. She was far from the controlled co-worker they knew as she kept stammering "No. It's not. You are not. Your body… Blood. You were—"

"I'm okay. Y'see? I'm right here, with you." Callen looked at the others and shook his head, nearly unseen. "Did you call an ambulance? Might be better if she'd have some medical attention."

Deeks glanced at their team lead, his hands tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. "And you? What is it we don't know yet but have to know about? What happened?"

Callen informed his co-worker while he started walking from them. "We were outnumbered. Got a clue. So now I'm hurrying to follow. Brief you on my way."  
Then he opened the door and was gone.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Granger paced around the large table in the Ops center, which made Eric not knowing where to look. The assistant director asked "Any news from—"

He swiveled his chair to where Granger's voice came from and said "Nell is going to be alright. She'll have to rest, has a concussion. Deeks and Kensi are on their way back in here. They—"

"Send them home. Work can wait. It's been a long day." He stopped pacing, paused for a second and asked "Callen?"

Eric shook his head. "What I really wanted to say…"

Without any introduction, Deeks and Kensi entered the Ops room as well. "His phone. His spare ammunition. And the keys to his Mercedes." Deeks tossed the three items on the same table which Granger had just used as a center piece.  
"Careful. The glass could break. It's expensive stuff," Eric scowled at the other man.

"Callen left this all and chose to go lone wolf?" Granger sighed. "We know how?"

"Of course not. That's why they call it lone wolf. Or 'off the grid', whatever. It's as clear as can be that he chooses to be 'untraceable', right?" Deeks added.

Kensi spoke softer. "We know little of the 'how'. What we did notice was this." She took a plastic sealed bag which she held up. It contained a dark, stained tissue in it. "He's wounded. He did try to deny it, tried to hide it. Tried to make us doubt, but Nell had mentioned it. But he did say he had a clue."

"What clue?" Granger wanted to know.

The young junior agent shook her head and her dark hair shook with that same movement. "He mentioned he would brief us. But then again… He knew he would not have a phone, and he knew he was not going to take his own car. So…" Kensi did not really finish her sentence.  
Her partner did in his own special way "We haven't got a clue."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Picking locks and hotwiring a car had been something he learnt before he turned 14.  
There had been a time Callen really wasn't too proud of these skills, but right now he didn't care, it came in handy. In fact, he thought it was simply necessary.  
He needed transportation and so he took what was available.  
Sure, this man, Yoeri Savliko, whose license hung on the rear view mirror, would miss his yellow cab when an call came in. It was something Callen was aware of, yet another thing he thought was necessary. Hetty would account for any costs that were made, he hoped. And if not, well, he had some savings himself. It didn't really bother him.  
What did bother him was that the shot wound bled more than he expected. A stupid mistake, a precious miscalculation it had been.

Back in the Hanover apartment, he had sent Nell with the Johnsons away, summoned them to hide on the roof. He'd handed Maureen Johnson his spare gun, but failed to tell all three of them it wasn't loaded. He did it on purpose, because he suspected how the Johnsons really acted, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes.  
Although Nell was trained as an analyst and profiler and should be much better at it, Callen had many more years of experience. He simply had felt things were wrong but had not known what exactly.  
It had to do with the fact that and how the Johnsons were shot at.

What Callen had not planned was to get shot himself. Yes, he managed to shoot three of the intruders before he was hit himself. If he wanted to get to the others, he would need to reload his Sig-Sauer - but he'd known immediately that time was his enemy.  
And so he kept himself non-moving. It worked out well. That was when he heard the other two guys talk about Bart.

He realized it had to be Bart Lewis they meant.

Definitely a clue.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Cheviot Hills || Los Angeles**

Being on a look-out was nothing new for a special agent. It was part of his job and Callen could not tell how many hours he spent waiting in a car, watching and waiting.

It was different now since he was alone, without his partner, and he did not tell anyone else he would be here.

He sat in the parked yellow taxi opposite the main entrance to the aviation services of Abe Johnson and he hoped and expected this was the place the Johnsons and the other men had gone to. However, there were no lights and Callen had seen no movement whatsoever on the home base of 'Moonlight'.

He breathed in deeply and let the air leave with a deep sigh and Callen rubbed his eyes, feeling tired as he was right now. Carefully, he put his dark blue jacket aside and touched the place where his shirt stuck to his body. 'Just a graze' he kept telling himself, but deep down he knew it needed to be taken care of.

He sighed again and decided, for once, to be reasonable. And so he left.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Pacific Coast Family Medical Group**

She couldn't remember being this tired. Sleeping in a bed which was not her own and it really did not help when every hour somebody entered to wake her, just when she was about to go in a deeper sleep. In Nell's opinion it had been less than an hour ago when a nurse woke her and it irritated her more than she showed.

Without opening her eyes she followed the steps of the person who had entered and she expected a kind but determined hand touching hers, then a kind but determined voice that would warn her that there would be a light to shine in her eyes, just for observation.

This time it was different. A gentle but short touch of her cheek, then a deep sigh, then nothing. And Nell slowly sank away in a calmer sleep.

Next time she woke up, it was with a buzzing sound on the night-stand next to her bed. Slowly, Nell opened her eyes. Despite the closed, soft yellow curtains, she noticed the daylight which already shone through them. Her right hand reached for the device which kept softly buzzing and she decided to answer it  
"Yeah?" She closed her eyes again as she simply listened for about a minute. She chew her lower lip and then said "I don't Eric. Tell Granger I don't. He didn't tell, he simply walked off." Again, she paused for a while and then softly interrupted the other speaker as she said "Issue a BOLO. Check incoming phone-calls through Rebecca. Or better, just call her and ask.—Uhuh. Strange. See you."

Nell disconnected and put the phone aside. Then she slowly stretched and yawned once again. Just as she was about to decide to try to catch even some more sleep, the sound of his voice startled her and too fast she opened her eyes and winced as she turned her head.

"Y'think I should call Eric?" Callen asked.  
He looked like he needed more rest than he got, Nell figured. His eyes were red rimmed and there was more she saw. Small cracks around those same eyes, which were lusterless.  
"I think you should have a longer nap, Callen," she wisely said.

He sighed deeply and slowly hoisted himself up, restless but again, less energetic than Nell had seen him so far. Tiredly, and with a headache Nell continued. "They're worried, Callen. Not angry."

"They..." Callen said, a sad smile on his face. "Really Nell, I don't care what Granger feels. Or Deeks, or Kensi." He swallowed, then rubbed his eyes as if they bothered him. "It's you Nell. I wanna know your thoughts. But before you speak, just… I'm sorry Nell. Sorry that I put you in danger. Sorry for completely misjudging the, erhm, the situation. I knew though that the Johnsons would not be able to shoot you for the gun I gave was an empty one. I simply wanted to check if—"

"Callen, I know. It's okay. It's just that… I don't think I have been this shocked before in my life. You were just there and it looked so real, so…" She paused again, let her weary mind go. She then looked at him and her eyes widened. "It IS real. Callen? It was your blood?" Her hand trembled when she took his. "Tell me I was right. Or please, don't."  
She then let go of his hand and quickly pressed the help button, unseen from the team lead.

"Told you I'm okay Nell. I just… Did you say Eric call Rebecca?" He changed the subject.

She remembered in time that she should not move her head too much and so she simply hummed in confirmation. "Granger did try, to ask her if she heard from you."  
Nell noticed how he suddenly frowned, worried.

"And?" was all he said.

"Her phone's turned off," she said. Nell had no idea about the why, but again, she saw how it bothered the senior agent. He turned and she knew he simply was about to leave. Before he could, a nurse entered the room. "You called?" she asked, addressing Nell. The young woman, looking even more petite than usual in the hospital bed, simply answered. "Yes I did. But… it's for him."

Yes, Nell did see some anger bubbling under the surface, but then it was gone. Hidden, like Callen was a master in hiding his real feelings.

"Callen…" she then said. "If you want to continue working this case, you need to be in good shape. And believe me, I don't want to mother you, but you really look like crap. I simply know you were shot last night and I don't think you've had anyone looking at it. So…" she tiredly leaned back in the bed.

"You need to rest, young lady," the nurse said. Then she asked "Well, Sir?"

Callen sighed deeply, knowing his young coworker was all too right. "Stitches only. No sedation," he negotiated nearly mumbling. "Do you think you can do that within ten minutes?"

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_Hope you liked this chapter. Please leave your thoughts or a simple review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Forget today**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**Pacific Coast Family Medical Group**

"This—It's just a scratch. Cleaned and dressed it myself," Callen mumbled apologetically.  
In fact, last night he had hoped Rebecca had been around to help, but she wasn't on the yacht and he remembered she mentioned going out to meet a friend. So it was like in the old days - cleaning, disinfect, dressing the best he could. And even Callen himself lost count how many times he did this.

The tall, blond nurse glanced at the man and immediately believed this was someone who experienced things like shot-wounds before. She remarked "You know we have to report gunshot wounds?"

He took his badge and briefly showed it. "Not necessary. Same agency as hers," he said, nodding his head to where Nell lie. She had closed her eyes and appeared to be slumbering already. "Can you do this quick?" he asked again.

The nurse sent him a look, not used to impatient patients like this man. "Please, just follow me," she told him and walked to a small room near the one where he left Nell to catch some more rest.

Needles most certainly were not his thing, but even worse than the fear of needles was the fact that every nurse or any other medic or physician wanted to use anesthesia or sedation - making him feel sick longer than he needed and more than anyone else he knew. He desperately looked away from all the things this nurse, Debby according to what he read on her uniform, prepared.

"So? You're ready?" She asked.

Reluctantly, Callen put his coat away and unbuttoned the black shirt he now wore, revealing the bandaged right part of his waist. Red stains were visible, even now, and it made him feel unsteady.  
Carefully but ably, Debby removed the material and shook her head. "This happened when, early last night? I bet you lost lots of blood, right? This should've been done by a physician, and you know that," she muttered.

He shrugged and hid his emotions once again. "No time for that. Just make the best of it."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Long lists of green numbers kept crawling in two different tables in front of his eyes, next to a series of six smaller screens that appeared to be combined. Cars kept going, fast forward, from six different angles. Four screens were near to the Hanover apartment. The other two covered both entrances of the base of 'Moonlight' in the Cheviot Hills.

"Gotcha," Eric mumbled to himself. A yellow cab had shown on both places, and he knew he could keep following it from the last location wherever it would travel through the city of Angels. The footage was from hours ago, true, still…

"What you got, Beale?" Granger's drawl sounded from behind.

Eric swiveled his desk chair at full speed to face the older man who ran the office at the moment. "Callen. I mean, I know where he went and how."

"What you got, Eric?" Both men turned and looked at the subject of their search who entered Ops as if nothing happened.

The younger technical analyst blinked his eyes several times before he scraped his throat, glanced at the assistant director and then decided to answer. "Ehrm, well… I just managed to trace where you went."

"Well, here I am."  
"You were at the hospital." Eric's voice sounded nearly accusatory as he looked up at the lead agent.  
Callen nodded. "Checking on Nell," he simply explained. Then he changed the subject like only he could. "Anything on the Johnsons so far?"

"Tried to follow the van, but—"

"It disappeared. I know. I mean, I tried to follow it too, but I lost it in or around the tunnel in the Santa Monica Freeway. Maybe they split up. I waited near the chopper office. Nobody showed up. Neither at the Johnsons place in Brentwood ," Callen agreed as he took Nell's chair, sat down, slowly leaned back and carefully watched the large screen. "And even Kaleidoscope couldn't find it?" he wanted to know.

"Nothing so far," Eric sighed. "Nothing at their house, nothing at 'Moonlight'. I have found literally nothing."  
He nearly sounded desperate and realized it, so he corrected "Well… that's not completely true. Got facial recognition soon on the victims of last night's shooting."  
He gazed at the senior field agent who appeared to be focused yet different from what Eric was used to see. "Callen, you shot and killed Nick Olivera. A former petty officer. Which is… a crime. It's not good, is it, Granger?"

The man he addressed shook his head but hardly commented this any further. "Shooting in self-defense it was. And shooting at an officer is a crime too as we all know, which makes a big difference, Beale. Go on please. Or hold on for a minute. Because you and I need a face-to-face discussion. I expect a complete briefing with you, Callen, once Beale in here is ready with informing us. Full of all details of what happened in that safe house."

Eric nervously licked his now dry lips. He knew all too well what a briefing between Callen and Granger might mean – nothing good. At least, that's what he remembered. He hoped he could avoid being around when both men had their discussion.  
Still, he continued. "Right. Olivera was 32. Single. Then there's Thomas McGarrett, 22. He is, I mean he was, well known for major juvenile crimes, all gang-related. Some violent robberies, shooting, fighting, you know the drill. Though you might never expect that. McGarrett grew up in a fine family. When he was not in jail, he still lived with his parents. The last of those three was Leroy Corden. Jack of all trades, even a part-time chopper pilot. 39 Years old, divorced, two kids"

"What about the other personnel of that company, Beale? What did our systems find out since yesterday?" Granger asked. "You checked on this McGill and Agnelli, right?"

"We got the intel yesterday, thanks Eric. Now, I heard two more names, a Steve and Thomas. They're the ones who got away. No surnames as far as I heard. They too might be related to Bart Lewis. This Lewis guy triggered something which scared Maureen Johnson. See what you can find on Maureen, Bart Lewis and Aruba," Callen concluded. "I mean, your systems should be able to run searches like these, right?"

"Aruba?" Granger asked in a surprised voice.

Before Granger could ask more and before Eric of Callen could respond, there was a loud whistle from downstairs and immediately after, they heard Deeks and Kensi hurry up the staircase and came their way.  
"That was certainly out of the box," Eric chuckled, glad because of the company that might lighten up the mood in the operational center. "What's up guys?"

"Just got a call from LAPD. Their colleagues from the Long Beach Police Department called them since they had a car shooting which resembled the one in Brentwood. This one was in one of the alleys near East Ocean Boulevard," Kensi said.

The assistant director turned to Eric and asked "Do we have any footage of it?"

The young man, as ever dressed in surf-shorts and an untucked, loose button down shirt and a tee underneath it, tapped some of the keys of his hand-held computer and shook his head. "Nothing so far."

"Detective Deeks 'nd agent Blye. Why don't the two of you go and check it out," Granger suggested.  
Callen glanced at the older man. It never was Granger who really was in charge and set out the details. Now, with two men down and Hetty not around, Granger probably felt this was necessary.  
Callen sighed deeply, not really looking forward to . Right now he didn't feel he was up to any action and if Granger sent the two younger field agents to drive all through the city without knowing that was worthwhile the decision, who was he to disagree?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Moments later, Granger had taken his seat in Hetty's desk chair, which he adjusted to his height and posture now.  
"You know she won't like to find her stuff like this when she'll be back," Callen remarked as he lowered himself in the wicker chair opposite of the large, antique desk.

"Skip the sweet talk, Callen. How bad is it?" Granger demanded.

"How bad is what? The situation? In a way, Owen, I feel like you forgot to brief me before Nell and I went in that safe house. So, you tell me."

The blue eyes of the agent in charge were not as bright as Owen Granger remembered and he let out a deep sigh. "Maybe you're right. I'll get to that, after you tell me. You were shot but forgot to tell anyone. You went lone wolf without any warning and now you walk in as if nothing happened."

"I've had someone to look at it. A nurse. I'm fine." He leaned back as he kept his gaze going over the older man's face. Granger definitely had years of experience, as Callen couldn't really read his thoughts. There was a flicker of… well, he could only describe it as care, in the dark brown eyes. Callen slowly breathed out, then started to ask. "What's the hidden agenda, Owen?"

Granger scraped his throat like he did so many times, then answered "Nothing's hidden. Remember I first wanted you go in with Rebecca?" He didn't wait for a response and kept explaining. "CIA arranged the safe house. It never appeared on our lists before, though you and I both know we have all of them filed. All, but not this one. And to be honest, I didn't like it at all, like I knew you wouldn't do either."  
There was, again, no response this time and a little uncomfortable, Granger continued.  
"I thought that, well, with Rebecca's background with the CIA she might inform. The two of you might have worked something out."

"Like Nell and I did," Callen nodded. "What part did I miss then? You have your own background with the CIA too, right?"

The assistant director simply hummed. "It's all about trust and respect, agent Callen. And with this Nolan in charge of their office in town, well… He and I really don't get along. While I know Rebecca worked with him, in the past."

Callen clenched his jaw and was quiet for a minute, not sure if or how he should ask what he wanted to ask.  
Granger noticed and explained, his voice kind now "There's the difference between knowing because I read the files and between knowing because one feels like explaining in a discussion, agent Callen. Yes, you know Rebecca Belgrave and I shared some cases in the past. That's all."

There was no response and Granger added "Keep giving it a try, Callen. The two of you have over ten years to catch up with. That's a lot. Share your thoughts, your doubts, your questions…"

He wanted to rise quickly, detesting the fact that Owen Granger was interfering in his private life, but the sudden dizzy feeling made him stand up and leaning forward on the back of the chair.  
"Right", he said. He took a deep breath, turned and went to sit at his own desk in the now too empty bullpen.  
He opened his laptop and sank back as far as possible behind it. Callen peeked around the screen to check if Granger could observe his actions or not. The assistant director however sat behind the desk, reading something from his own laptop with a frown on his face that nearly made Callen want to ask if all was okay.  
He changed his mind, took the fixed phone and dialed the number he knew by heart.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Los Angeles**

This was a perfect place to find out what it was they needed to know. Which could be a lot. It all depended if this person could add one and one together, and how well one could deduct and conclude. And if so, how many other people were involved.

For now, a perfect place. No-one would suspect a place like this and more important, no-one would hear.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Quickly, Eric flip-flopped down the stairs. His hands were empty yet he did not whistle the two men to come upstairs. He shot a quick glance to the left, where Callen scrolled over a window of his laptop with a serious look on his face.

Then, Eric came to a halt near Granger's desk and nearly whispered "There's something you have to see, Granger."

"What's that, Beale?" Granger asked, louder than the young technical analyst fancied.

Eric nervously rolled his head and repeated "Something." He motioned with his eyes to where Callen sat and added in a low voice "**You** have to see, Sir."

Callen had taken the phone again and, with his back turned to the others, he now had a relaxed and animated conversation with his son.

* * *

_Hope you liked this chapter. I agree, there are some - or maybe a lot? - of questions to be answered. It'll all be explained in the next chapter(s)! Please leave your thoughts, they're very welcome!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Forget today**

**Chapter 8**

_by Knirbenrots_

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Despite the cheerful chit-chat of George who was the happiest boy in the world since he'd gone night-fishing, Callen had noticed how Eric had trotted down the stairs on his flip-flops.  
However, he was gone the next time he'd checked. And now, Callen turned his gaze to the main place where Hetty's desk stood. It was being used by Granger now, but he appeared to have left too.

He frowned and although it was a precious conversation he had, he waited until there was a short gap in the 'and then – and then' storyline of his son. That's when he interrupted, matter-of-factly, and asked if George or Ike had seen Rebecca this day.

Maybe she'd gone to his place after all, he didn't know and he would call later. Right now, work came in the first place.

He disconnected, sat up straighter and did what he knew he could do to – analyze several websites.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"Now, Beale. This should be important or else I'm allowing myself again to indulge in some very enjoyable deskwork," Granger said.

The younger man studied the face of the assistant director of NCIS, not sure if the man was trying a careful joke or not. Eric breathed in deep and swept some of the screens of his hand-held computer away, until the one that was meant for Granger's eyes only, appeared on the large screen.  
"There's this, sir, which caught my eye," he said. Again, a large series of numbers appeared and Eric explained "These are numbers, you see."

A glare from the former agent came his way. "I see. Go on."

Eric reddened slightly and said "These are—telephone numbers, I mean. The left row show all the numbers which dialed to the cell phone which belongs to Maureen Johnson. In the right column on the screen you'll find the numbers that were contacted by that same number. And then there's this." He added another command and explained "What we see now, are the numbers which dialed the numbers which were either dialed by or to the number of Maureen Johnson's cell phone."

"Keep it short and simple will you. Why would this be relevant, Beale?"

"Well. Sure." On the large screen Eric highlighted some numbers in blue and clarified. "Now I want to show you this number. As you can see, it was contacted several times by Mrs. Johnson's number. Twice late yesterday afternoon, once early last night. And the other way around, it called hers as well. Once around dinnertime yesterday, you see?" He didn't expect an answer and continued "It's this number which received an extern call only minutes ago again."

There was something impatient in Granger's voice when he stated "There's nothing wrong with being called, is there?"

Nervously, Eric glanced at the sliding doors which still were opened and he answered in a quiet voice "You're right, sir. But you see, this number is… Well you see, it's one of our own lines."  
He nodded to the sliding doors and said, in that same quiet voice "Callen called it. Like you did yourself. In there," he pointed to the number that belonged to Owen Granger and he concluded "What I found out is that Maureen Johnson contacted Rebecca Belgrave several times while she was in protected custody. And from what I learned so far is that the first rule of the protection would be 'no contacts with anyone you know', right?"

In response, Eric heard some muttering which he knew were some curses which Granger let out – a way of communicating without telling what really bothered him.

Eric's phone gave one of the buzzing sounds which made them both fell silent for a second. He quickly glanced at his phone, then he started to look at Granger again. "Should we—"

"No way, Beale. No way. There's no 'we' in this."

There was no real explanation, Eric noticed. And he knew Granger needed some time to ponder on what he just told him.  
Maybe in an hour, he thought. Maybe he would ask again, and maybe Granger would trust him to ask Callen what the connection was between Maureen and Rebecca. After all, it might explain a lot.  
But first things first. He'd contact a friend of him, Max Spears, at the NSA. Eric knew Max would help him on phone tabs, which might shed more light on what was going on. Because no matter that Granger didn't ask for it – Eric was used to working self-reliant and he'd keep working like that.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road || Long Beach**

"He now is a potential danger to our operation, damnit."

The burly man let his left hand go through his rather greasy, pepper and salt colored hair, thinking of a quick solution. It was not something they had planned, not at all. It had all seemed to be a well-practiced operation, like they had already been using some days before. Well, it had been more or less, because this one was for real.  
The one in Brentwood was a staged one, never meant to hurt the ones in the car. On the contrary.  
This one, well… Mike Holmes was the one who should've easily got the one they were after, but he had been stupid enough to be overwhelmed and get shot himself. Sure, Steve Oakson had been around quick enough, but now it was Holmes who got hospitalized. And hell, one could tell so many things when being drugged, or when a police investigation or eyewitnesses proved that Mike and Steve had not been around to help the victim, but to take care of getting the victim to this place.

"Your fault!" he shouted. There was no response however, unless a hard stare from the nearly black eyes counted for a response.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

A soft bleep on Eric's systems proved something new occurred. He quickly scanned the message and decided it was something he should share with the men who were around, so he walked to the landing and was about to give one of his loud whistles. Eric then shook his head as he noticed only Granger was behind the desk he now called 'his'.  
So he flip-flopped down the stairs again until he reached the assistant director's desk. "Callen left the office?"

Granger frowned. "Never noticed, but now you mention it… But tell me, Beale, what's it you got right now?"

Eric sighed. "I would have love to share this with Callen and Nell. Remember I told you before that Callen had his doubts about that shooting of the Johnsons, right? He shared this with Nell. Now, the results of the forensic examination came in."  
He paused as if to build up the tension.

"Yes, go on Beale."

"Well, Callen was right. They found that who-ever shot at them, at their car, was never aiming at them. And even worse, or if you prefer, even better, Abe Johnson never drove any faster than 10 miles per hour. His car would never be really that damaged to get hurt, since he had to arrange it himself. The collision Johnson described never occurred."

Granger was quiet for a minute. "We should analyze all possible reasons."

Eric nodded. "That's right. But there's no 'we' in here. That is, there is if you mean you and I."

"Call agent Blye and detective Deeks. Let them come back. I want to know all about this case they are trying to learn more about. If this shooting in Long Beach is the same as the one of the Johnson - the same modus operandus. The persons involved. Everything. I want it now. And do try to find agent Callen. I need to have a serious discussion with him."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Veteran Avenue, 631 || Los Angeles**

Since he knew Rebecca was not where Callen expected her to be, he hoped to find her at his place. Perhaps she had a rough night out with this friend she mentioned the other day. He nearly chuckled to himself. Heck, the two of them had been going out and Callen experienced how she could party indeed, although she, deep down, preferred a quieter family life in the end.

He exhaled deeply when he noticed her car wasn't parked in front of his house either. Once again he tried to call, and once again the phone was dead. There was no use looking for her driving through the city, he figured. Again, he sighed deeply.

The only hope he had at this moment was Eric. Eric and all those programs he knew and could use.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

'A serious discussion', he had called it.  
And Granger read it in the technical analyst's eyes – Eric Beale expected one of the conversations he and Callen had in the past too many times. Times when Eric had looked and probably had been very embarrassed, or even walked off when things got to heated in his opinion. And not only Eric had done so, the other co-workers too.  
True, the blue eyes of the senior agent had been cold with anger so often and too many times only with Granger.  
But things had changed when Rebecca came around – the shared past of both Callen as Granger with her made both men behave differently.

And the things he wanted to discuss with Callen weren't negative at all, not this time. Now Sam wasn't around, and Nell was out of business, he needed Callen as a partner to discuss the matter of the safe house with the CIA.

The heavy wooden door of the office slam shut and even from where he was standing, up in the Ops, Granger was distracted by the bantering of the junior agents.

"This is not about a box. It's a car we're talking about," Kensi said.

"But it's about the contents. It's the same question – what's in it. Like the who's in it," Deeks retorted. "And since there's no answer yet, the upshot is similar."

Kensi sighed, doubting if she'd ever win a debate when Deeks was in a mood like this. "Look. I know what's in the box. Apparently, you don't, you still don't. Which I think is… chickening."

"Uh-uh. You're changing the subject. You're right, I don't know what's in the box. Like I don't know what's in the car. Or if you prefer, who's in the car. Get it?" Deeks hurried up the stairs, skipping half of the steps while muttering 'chickening—me…'

The sliding doors were opened already, so both of them entered, more or less expecting the rest of the team, but only Eric and Granger stood there waiting for them, leaning against the center table in unison, like Callen and Sam usually did.

"Right. What've you arranged, Granger?" Deeks questioned.

"C'mon partner," Kensi murmured. She sighed, glancing at the unreadable face of their temporary manager. "We found no-one. Oh, and he didn't mean no fun, Owen," she added.

A loud snort came from Eric because of the coincidental rhymes with the assistant director's name. Eric now took over.

"Glad you're around. We were wondering if there's a way the four of us can figure out the differences and the similarities when it comes to these drive-by shootings. Anything. Even if it means you're thinking outside the box."

It caused a chuckle of Deeks. "There it is again, Fern. The box."

Granger interrupted. "About the shooting in Long Beach, what's the news?"

"This one crashed into a building, which must've hurt the driver. To me it appears no-one was aiming for the driver though." Deeks explained, serious now. "See… there's these bullet holes in the engine hood. And to distract the driver some bullets through the windshield and the side window."

"No blood, no shell casings, nothing," Kensi added.

"Luckily we had number plates." Eric concluded. "Though with those we still hardly know anything."

Kensi still watched the screen, closely studying both cars, both scenes and surroundings and stepped toward the large screen. "If I was the shooter and aiming for the ones in these car? Well…" She paused, her hands on her hips and slightly leaning forwards. "With the Johnson's car there are some bullets aimed at the radiator and the wheel cover on the driver's side. With this silver sedan it's like Deeks just said. The driver and possible passenger must've been lucky not to be hurt by glass debris which is inside the car. Some shotgun shells were inside the car. The driver probably had no clear sight anymore so it collided into that warehouse."

Granger gazed at what Kensi and Deeks had just explained. "Combine this with the outcome of forensics… I'd say it's not related. Or maybe a copy-cat, but more probable purely coincidental."

"No camera's. No eyewitnesses either, at least that's what the LBPD report says. But if what you just stated is true, someone may have needed treatment at a hospital," Eric suggested. "So—"

"We're on our way," Deeks said. "The Memorial, the Community and the College Medical. Can be done within an hour and a half. We'll keep in touch, right?"  
He turned and walked out of Ops, while Kensi smiled apologetic while she followed. "See you later."

There was a quick half smile on Granger's face when he addressed Eric once again. "Seems there's just you and I, Beale. Anything from Callen yet?"

Eric shook his head. "Nothing. I suppose he'll be back soon. You know, I might try it at Sam's, at the hospital. You know how the two of them are. Close."

Granger nodded. "Meanwhile, have your systems work on anything. Try to find out as much as possible on these things…"

"Will do so. Well, there's more than anything already. The grey Cadillac was registered to a Belle Roberts from San Diego. So far, there's nothing I have on her in the systems," Eric explained.

There were two loud curses coming from behind him, which made Eric pivot in surprise.

There was Granger, the look on his face one of immediate concern.  
There, behind Granger, stood Callen. The look on his face was a mix of rage, worry and definitely out of balance.

* * *

_A/N Sure. It may seem coincidental indeed. Love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, thanks in advance!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 9**

* * *

_Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is this storyline and its original characters._

A/N Thank you all for those wonderful reviews so far on this story!  
For your information: The names used in this storyline are just made up. Any resemblance to actual persons, dead or alive, events or firms, is purely coincidental

* * *

Too many times Rebecca Belgrave's identity had nearly been breached. Never mind the fact she knew how to blend so anyone who noticed her saw exactly what she wanted them to see, Rebecca had chosen some aliases. New identities so she could switch whenever necessary. 'Belle Roberts' was one of these alternative identifications she used, and she'd discussed this matter with Callen. Like Callen, Rebecca needed to feel safe and she'd been used to live life with different aliases. Belle Roberts was one of those.

Granger knew too, since in his position he read some unredacted files. Files he requested, simply because he was the one to advise director Vance to employ her in one of the NCIS teams.  
Besides, he was briefed by the CIA in the past as he was a handler of a case at Aruba.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

_**Flashback – Aruba || 2011**_

Victor Nolan's voice sounded harsh and nearly denigrating "I really don't think it's up to you to advise her about her relationship with her husband. I mean – who are you to judge?"  
He let his baby blue eyes gaze at his temporary partner.  
To him, Rebecca Belgrave was a mystery. So far, he'd heard practically everybody at their office speak positively about her. She was capable, quick in analyzing and amazingly natural when it came to undercover operations. However, she was a loner too. Rebellious sometimes. Though in a way she got along with Owen Granger, their handler.  
She also was someone who hardly shared any of her personal life with co-workers. A loner in that way too. Someone who definitely preferred to avoid any relationships, or who was simply keen in keeping those hidden for anyone he knew.  
With those few words, he hoped to find out more about her. He was wrong.

Nolan continued "I know a lonely and depressed woman when I see one. It makes me uncomfortable you can't see it."

She shrugged. "There's more than that. Sure, she's lonely. But she sure is loyal too. Both to her husband and also to her job. Which makes her a target. I can feel it."

"C'mon Becki—"

"It's Rebecca." She interrupted, her voice steady and level and hiding her irritation. Nolan's way of behaving towards her annoyed her. Besides that, his way of thinking was very different from hers.  
She tried again "Maureen Johnson has a job which makes her... how shall I say… It makes her vulnerable. For being bribed, for instance. She told me she feels scared because there's this guy, this assistant of her husband, who's constantly around."

Nolan raised his brows, then shook his head. "Bart Lewis? Oh, common Becki—I mean, Rebecca. For heaven's sake, the guy is an assistant. Don't know what she told you, but I thought you'd see right through that."

Her odd grey eyes darkened slightly and Victor Nolan understood she was losing her temper for the first time he met her. He tried to calm her down and suggested "What if you'd talk to her again while I discuss this matter about Lewis later on?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

There was the sound of another incoming call which Eric studied first. He analyzed the information quickly, then decided it was worthwhile sharing.  
"Sir? Deeks and Kensi got a male gunshot victim at the Community Hospital in Long Beach. But—Well, what should I tell them, since you and Callen… well. The guy was picked up one street from the car we were just talking about. He is in a position to talk right now, but…"  
Eric felt like he interrupted something which he wanted to stay far away from, and in fact he was about to answer Deeks himself that it wasn't important anymore, not at all, since Granger and Callen were worried about a certain Belle Roberts.

The brown eyes of the assistant director stared into nothing, then he quickly glanced at the senior agent who definitely was worried about the one he loved.  
"Tell them to go ahead. It's too coincidental to ignore." He then turned to Callen. "Ike still taking care of George?"  
Callen nodded.

"Then you and I are on our way," Granger simply stated. He opened one of the drawers and took his car keys. He then got up, expecting Callen to follow him. "Beale," he then ordered, "Now you go and call Victor Nolan, CIA and tell him Owen Granger and agent G. Callen are on their way to discuss the matter of the safe house at the Hanover apartment."

The tech analyst looked around in the office and noticed he was the only one left of the original team and said "Alrighty then."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road || Long Beach**

"Crap. That guy Granger is a pesky old-school manager. I'm pretty sure he distrusts me, like he did years ago." A sly grin appeared on Victor Nolan's face as he tucked away his phone in the pocket of his jacket. "One more reason to let him and a certain agent Callen wait a little longer."

For a second Rebecca closed her eyes, hiding something that she knew that was a mixture of both her relief as another wave of worry. She felt another shock when Bart Lewis started talking.  
"That's the NCIS agent who was with the Johnsons? Damnit. Johnson told us Mike Holmes shot this Callen. And Abe also mentioned that he was damn dogged during these few days. Sure you'll be able to distract them or do you need any assistance?"

A loud snort of annoyance came from Nolan. "Who do you think I am, Lewis? Of course I can handle this."  
His pale blue eyes grew hard when he turned to Rebecca. There was no way she could escape since her arms were tied to one of the hard metal stairs, deep down inside of the citadel of an inoperative old battleship, ready to be demolished.  
"You remember, right, Becki, how easy it was to tell MY truth to Granger. I'm pretty sure he took it as _the_ truth. Still, I'm glad you didn't have the opportunity to talk to him now you're in town."

A small but sly grin appeared on his face when he let his gaze go over the woman who he once worked with. She hadn't changed that much in those few years.  
Not like him. He still felt strong, but his hair was changing color, became thinner too. Looking in a mirror Nolan had seen his face gone puffy and his clothes really didn't fit as nice anymore.  
But she… Well, she looked okay, despite the torn sleeve of her lavender blue dress and the small trail of dried blood on her face and upper arm, which must hurt her. Even after spending a night in a wet and cold hold of this ship, being slightly wounded, she still looked strong and fiery. Exhausted and in pain, but not broken or desperate. Yet. The grin reappeared thinking of that.

She swallowed. It would only be a matter of time before Nolan or any of the others would find out about the fact she had just joined NCIS.  
But maybe it really didn't matter. Maybe they'd not find out, because it would be too late. Maybe Granger had never shared her part of the story anyway. Maybe it never mattered at all.

"Maybe it's about time we have a small reunion in here, how about that? Like you expected to meet Maureen when you called her, right? Well, that'll be after I tell Granger another little bedtime story. It may keep him running around in circles. So, for the time being, I suggest you wait a bit longer."  
Nolan gestured at one of the other man. "Put her away. Lower deck, and lock it carefully again."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

It seemed like a matter of automatism when Callen opened the door to the passenger seat and entered. He leaned back as Owen Granger put the car in the rear, left the parking lot and started driving.  
For some minutes, none of them spoke.  
It was Granger who then said "Last case for the CIA I handled was when I sent two agents to Aruba. To investigate and if necessary, to protect. In fact, that was why I wanted this case at the safe house as well."  
Although Granger kept his eyes on the road, he simply felt how the senior agent next to him tensed for a second. Granger glanced at Callen. The agent in charge definitely wasn't in the best shape, but stubborn as ever he refused to talk about it. Owen Granger exhaled deeply and continued "Maureen Johnson got kind of befriended with one of my agents back there."

Callen understood and his mind was in a whirl while he tried to analyze all the things he knew by now. "Rebecca. If that is why you wanted her to team up with me, why didn't you just say so?"  
Anger now replaced the worry and he heard the change in his own voice. "I bet this thing is related and you already knew before you 'invited' me to join you—"

"Nolan is kind of a cunning person. He thinks he can outsmart me, fool me, like he…" He paused for a second as he pulled up now the lights were green. "Nolan still thinks he's the most clever one. True, he does have some fine qualities when it comes to managing an office. Still, there's something I don't trust about him."  
With his right hand he reached for his formal bag behind the driver's seat and he took blindly what he wanted to – a paper file. "You read and tell me what you're thinking of it."

Callen took the file, leafed through it as he scanned pictures, reports, situation sketches and more. He chewed the inside of his lower lip, leaned back a bit more and let his gaze go over the ever busy traffic which the car passed and the foggy blue skies above the city. His hands rubbed over his tired eyes once, then he said "This is his side, Nolan's side of the story, right? Laughing away his partner's comments, laughing away Maureen Johnson's worry."

A short confirming 'uh-uh' came from Granger.

"Maureen's story was about the same when I spoke with her," Callen said. "Worried because she thought she saw Bart Lewis. But her husband —"  
Granger interrupted his words. "Maybe it was naïve of me to think she and you should've been the ones in the Hanover apartment. Come to think about it, maybe it would have gone explosively wrong. There's an envelope in my bag. Take it and read what's in there too."

It was a thorough report Callen now read. Rebecca's suspicions about Abe Johnson's business, her thoughts about Bart Lewis' role in this business and how she managed to put Lewis behind bars for smuggling weapons in and cocaine out of Aruba. Still, Lewis had been imprisoned for only a short two months. Copies of his accusations and the formal conviction for this offence. And the paperwork of a new verdict.  
His question sounded harsh and he knew it "This is Nolan's signature?"

A rare but sympathetic smile from the assistant director came his way. "How about that for working as partners? It was the last time she worked with a partner and the last time she used her own name as well," Granger said. "You ready to face the man?"

* * *

_Thanks for reading y'all. Hope you will be so kind to leave your review!_

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Knirbenrots


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Forget Today**

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_Thank you for all the wonderful comments and thoughts you left when reviewing!_

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"You really wanna know if I'm ready to meet this guy? Really..."

Callen let his gaze go over the ever so stoic face of their boss, the second in rank when it came to managing the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. So many times Owen Granger had asked if Callen trusted him. During the first two years there was no trust at all. Maybe it was mutual, he never knew. It had changed when Granger was the one who helped him to get to know all about Rebecca's past.  
But right now, he felt very different.

"You tell me you don't trust the guy, yet you ask me to come with you and tell you how I feel about it?" Callen asked in unbelief. "And then there's the thing that he—that he might know something about the fact that I can't reach or find Becca!"  
Anger started taking over once again. Despite the fact Callen knew Granger cared for Rebecca as well, this time he also blamed his boss for not informing him before all of this took place.

Callen took his phone and punched a number on it, then let his thumbs do the rest of the job for him. After that, he stared outside for a brief moment.  
He finally heaved a big sigh, took the paper files again and pondered over what he read.  
"So both Rebecca and you claimed you didn't know anything about the fact that Bart Lewis worked as an informant for the CIA. Now, that sounds pretty odd for someone who worked as a handler I'd say."  
He inhaled deeply, again. He did try to stay as professional as possible, even though this time it was about a very personal case. "Come on, Granger. I don't buy that and I'd say you didn't either. Like I said, Maureen Johnson apparently fears this Lewis. What do we know about him?"

Granger was about to answer, but both their phones buzzed at the same time.  
"It's from Kensi," Callen said and he read the message aloud and skipped all the abbreviations she used. 'Escorting Mike Holmes from Community Hospital to Californian State Prison. Holmes is to be transferred because of previous convictions. Will be able to question him longer in there. He was shot by a woman whose description fits Rebecca Belgrave.' A small but again worried smile appeared on his face as he finished reading.

"That's okay. You may text back to tell Kensi they may use the rest of this afternoon for trying to get as much infos from this Holmes as possible," Granger responded.  
Driving the busy lanes kept him sharp. He glanced sideward to see how the agent in charge quickly typed a message back, his face serious and determined at the same time.

"What?" Callen asked as he noticed how the older man observed him for a second.

"You know that if Hetty would be around, she'd get you off the case, right? Because you wouldn't be able to hide the fact that you're not really fit to work. On top of that, because you're being personally involved. It'll make you less objective," Granger said after he chewed over this message.

Callen looked up. "You're not being serious right now, are you? We've got Sam hospitalized. Nell probably at home or still in hospital, Hetty is on the other side of the world and the youngsters in a prison hospital. Which would leave you and Eric work together."

"Like I said. Hetty's not around. What I meant is that you really, really should be careful to not show your, how shall I say it… your involvement to this guy Nolan. Oh, and you might want Eric to send you an electronic file about Lewis," Granger suggested as he wanted to be as effective as ever.  
He then slowed down the car and slowly drove it down into the parking garage underneath the unmarked building which housed the headquarters of the CIA in Los Angeles.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road || Long Beach**

She was back in the deepest part of this tall ship, with no more light than a small bulb which hardly lit the single door. The room was not only dark, it was damp and cold as well.

Rebecca Belgrave didn't know what hit her most – the fact that she felt betrayed by Maureen Johnson, or the fact that she faced her former co-worker like she did today.

Her head was throbbing. First, she thought it was from when she hit it when her car had crashed. But then, the cold seemed to get hold of her body and she felt the cold shivers creeping through her body. Beside this, she felt exhausted, something she wasn't used to. She crawled up as far as possible from the wet floor and hugged her knees with her arms.  
Because of the lack of daylight, she had no idea how long she had been in here. She refused to relax, although she also knew that whenever there was a possibility to catch some sleep, she should take it. But not now. Not in here. She needed to be prepared for whatever was to come.

Her weary mind went through what happened.  
She had contacted Maureen Johnson herself. With Callen who'd be away for some days, she felt like meeting a friendly face. And she knew Maureen lived just around the corner.  
The two of them had met some years ago on Aruba for the first time. Since then they'd met twice – once in San Diego and once, accidentally, in Washington. With Maureen and her being in Los Angeles right now, it seemed to be so logical to try and arrange something.  
Then Maureen texted her back, suggesting to meet in Long Beach. And again, for the exact spot and time. Then, once Rebecca was nearly where she should be, her car got shot like it did. Although she never lost consciousness, it was hard to remember exactly what happened. Her head hit the side window hard and something, she did not know what, must have hit her left shoulder just as hard. It hurt like hell and whatever it was, it had torn the thin summer dress she wore.

She managed to shoot the man who got his hands on her in a way which was no good. And she got away, until two more men were there, overwhelmed her anyway and got her into this place.

Again, she tried to resume for herself what had happened and what might be the outcome for her being here. She felt more than helpless, with her hands still tied together, in front of her right now. The men around hadn't offered her anything to drink or eat, yet they'd accompanied her to a toilet room, which had embarrassed her so much.

She was feeling powerless and worried for what was to come. Tears stung when she realized that right now, she failed keeping the promise she and Callen made together – that from now on, one of them would be with George.  
How wrong she was. Because from what she heard before, Callen was hurt himself. The only thing she concluded was that things surely looked bad.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

"Sure," Eric muttered when he read the incoming message Callen sent. Sure, it sounded that simple. 'Find out ASAP which numbers Victor Nolan has been connected to during the past three days'.  
"Sure. It means I'm frigging hacking into CIA's phone systems. Which means I'm dead," he mumbled to himself.

"Dead, huh?"  
The all too familiar voice sounded, and even without turning around, Eric knew how she looked. There'd be a smile on her face that made a dimple appear – slightly deeper on the left than on the right side. And the same smile would make some sparkles appear in her hazel eyes. Both the sparkle as the smile would disappear once he studied it a bit too long.

A grateful and sincere broad smile now went with Eric's words to his partner "Hey there. Good to have you back in here, 'mate'."  
He swiveled his chair to watch his petit co-worker who still stood near to the sliding doors. She seemed to be a bit unsure, which was not how he was used to see her. A plaster showed what Eric then understood "You're not cleared to come back to work. I'm not even sure if you're cleared to go home," he stated.

"Oh. Just… Forget today." Nell bit her underlip, which made her look even more insecure. She walked to the small isle in the Ops center, where she sat down in the seat which was adjusted to her height already. Without too much of a hassle she carefully turned to her partner in Ops and asked "Tell me, what is going to kill you?"

"It's Callen. I mean, not that he is going to kill me, don't get me wrong. It's just that… Well, he asked to find out about that CIA hotshot's phone records."

"Not that difficult to do, is it?" Nell asked, more seriously now.

Eric swallowed. "It's not. In fact it is about the same thing as asking Max of the NSA to help me to get the transcriptions of some of the phone calls or cell messages Maureen Johnson made."

"Usually illegal, unless duty calls and unless truly necessary to solve a case," Nell understood. Her fingers were on the keyboard already "What's the number?"

Eric put up his glasses higher on his nose and read the number aloud. "Callen also wants to know if we can find out if this phone, belonging to Victor Nolan's, was connected to Maureen Johnson's number. Which it did."  
He shove his finger over the tablet's screen which made the green lines visible on the large screen once again. He highlighted the time and duration of the contacts between these numbers. "There was also a connection between Maureen Johnson and Rebecca. Callen's Rebecca that is," Eric added, explaining what he'd found out earlier. "And Max Spears is working on the transcripts as we speak. Then there's another person we should look at. Bart Lewis' digital intel. We need to share some files with Granger and Callen too."

"Where are they?" Nell wanted to know.

"CIA headquarters," Eric answered.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**CIA headquarters || Los Angeles**

The receptionist had gestured to the wall-filling grey couch, meaning they should wait in there.  
Another guest waited for an appointment. A small, black business suitcase stood between his feet and the man studied his cell phone for either some serious business mail or scrolling through his Instagram timeline.  
Callen didn't know and didn't care either. With Granger's way of driving they'd arrived later than they should have, yet they were waiting for over a quarter of an hour already. Precious time in his opinion, because he expected Victor Nolan might be able to tell them more about Becca. After all, they shared a case in the past and from what Callen had understood from the files he read, Nolan might be someone who hid connections he had.

Finally, nearly half an hour later, a well-dressed man entered the spacious waiting area. "Owen!" he greeted while stepping forward, his arm stretched forward in order to shake Granger's hand. "Good to see you. I see you brought company."

The tall man let his gaze go over Callen, expecting his guest to introduce himself. All Callen did was send a slight nod with his head.

Granger decided it was up to him to get the two men acquainted "This is lead agent Callen, NCIS. You already knew that I work for that agency as well," he said. Then he added, addressing Callen, "Victor Nolan and I worked for the CIA in the past, did I tell you that beforehand?"

Again, Callen answered with a slight nod and a humming confirmation.

"Right then. Let's see, Loraine told me you are to see me about a house in town." Nolan started laughing. It sounded awkwardly chuckling for a man of his posture and position and with one simple glance at the man, Callen decided it was very fake indeed.  
After some strange gasps for air, Nolan said "As if I were in real estate. Well, we should talk at my office." He headed for the elevators, gesturing both his guest to follow.

Once the doors opened, Nolan led them to a well decorated room where he sat down behind a desk, expecting his visitors would take both the chairs opposite of him.

"Coffee?" he offered, pressing a button on his phone and ordering it without waiting for Granger and Callen to answer.  
He then turned his attention to both NCIS agents and repeated "Right. About this house."

Granger nodded to Callen, nearly unseen, to respond to this.

"Our agents were in this safe house you chose, the Hanover apartment. You must have heard things went south. This place was new to us but worse, there was no escape route."

The pale blue eyes of the man he spoke to, showed a hint of calculation which disappeared quickly. "I'm sure my people chose a safe place, like they always do. Tell me, what is wrong with it, or what went wrong?"

Callen didn't hide the smirk on his face, recognizing and reading the small signs of lies and the distrust Victor Nolan showed towards him and Granger.  
"Skip it from your list of safe houses. There's no way out, unless through the roof top. Which is what the NCIS agents tried but failed. Our agency was to accompany and protect the couple you put in there, targets of an assassination attempt. So far, we don't know what went wrong, but they were brutally taken from this place and are still missing."

"All agencies were briefed because of this. There was no way we could protect them because of the fact they could not escape from this place." Granger added.

The puffy face of Nolan showed no emotion when he faced Callen, just a little too long. "Those agents, were they severely wounded?"

"Still alive and about fit for fieldwork again." Callen responded. Talking to this man annoyed him more than he had envisioned beforehand. The coffee tasted okay and with the cup still in his hands, he stood up. With his back to the others, he looked down at the broad boulevard from the large window.  
He listened to Granger who explained how the Hanover apartment was not only lacking an escape route, but was also possibly overlooked from the buildings next to it. Callen put his mug down when he felt his phone vibrating.  
He checked the incoming message, smiled softly as he noticed it was Nell sending it.  
Of course she had returned. He recognized the stubbornness she showed, she and Eric as well. They worked just as hard and tackling cases from the right angle. And this time, her intel was thorough and complete as ever. Something he could work with.

Callen turned, scanned the room, then confidently interrupted the conversation the other men had. "Is there a restroom I could use?"

"Sure. Second door on the left," Victor Nolan answered, immediately ignoring him and continuing his conversation with Granger.

Which might just as well be a slight mistake.

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_Thank you all for reading. As ever, your thoughts, comments are very welcome in a review!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Forget today**

**Chapter 11**

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_Disclaimer: you all will understand that none of the characters of NCISLA belong to me. They were created by Shane Brennan who did a great job, like all the writers do too._

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A/N Thank you, Guest, EvaMcBain2009, 974lk, Linda Wigington, Skippy, ilse23, KatieinSyd, wotumba1, Blackbear53 and Baby Dick Grayson-Wayne, for leaving your reviews! Hope this - short little - chapter won't disappoint either.

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Never mind the fact that he was far from objective, like Granger already stated, Callen also knew he was able to look at this case from a distance. Like he knew he could, like he knew he had to.  
True, now he realized Rebecca was somehow part of the case it might make him more vulnerable and he knew it. On the other hand, he felt the urge to solve this case like any other case. Heck, he needed to.

And it felt good to simply get away the way he did. Callen was pretty sure Granger not only noticed but also understood this step he took. Maybe he was even cooperating, keeping Nolan in the discussion and thus distracting him enough so Callen could go and do what he did. Simply because Granger had told him he did not really trust Nolan.

A quick way of juggling like he knew he was good at and Callen was on his way.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

Carefully, Nell let her hands go through her hair. The systems had worked incredibly fast. She leaned back and said "Callen will handle this old-school, don't you think? I mean, like deduction, analysis, perhaps even with distraction. By now he will know about where to look."

The blond, bespectacled technic analyst smiled at the remarkable abilities of his younger co-worker. "Well, best thing is they won't have a clue it will be Callen around, and not the other guy, this sweet talking, big-boss CIA manager they expect. Right?"

"Right it is."  
Her remark sounded very convincing indeed. She had let Callen know already that he should be prepared for any out-of-the-ordinary, since she was well aware of his true way of working – lone wolf. He should be expecting the unexpected and meanwhile counting on his boss, his managing operator and his coworkers at Ops. Nell realized Callen counted on his team to know exactly what he was doing and thinking. Well, not this time. This time it was only him, on his own.  
Nell knew too well that Granger would play along for as long as it was necessary. Which probably might be a rather short period of time. She also knew that all the other co-workers would not expect their temporary chief to play along in the simplest part of the game. But she had seen how Granger had grown to show a pretty soft side when it came to this team, and even more since Rebecca had come to town.

"Do you think there's anything else we have to know by now? Anything we need to share with Granger, with Callen or with Densi?" Eric asked.

Nell raised her brows. "Excuse me… No way you should call them 'Densi'. If ever Kensi hears that, she'll just—well, I think you'd have bruises afterwards." She was quiet for a few seconds, then she continued "I really wished Sam was joining him. You know, because someone should have his back."

Eric understood. "We can. I mean, there are camera's around. Navy traffic cams," he smiled. His fingers went over the keyboard, quickly as Nell was used to see. Then, all of a sudden, his facial expression changed. "This is—odd. Or even worse."  
Eric looked up and turned his screen to Nell. "As if I simply lost signal. I mean. Just watch." He kept tapping his right finger on the rewind-button. "Here", he said, "these four cams are covering the street where you just sent Callen to."

Nell hummed in order to avoid nodding. "Nimitz Road."

"Right. Now see what happens." Eric watched just as closely as his female co-worker did, even though it was the third time he saw what he now saw again.

"Wait. What?" Nell practically squeaked.

"Exactly my thoughts. Those two cameras in here are getting switched off, and the ones back further are turned to another angle. Which means we now completely miss the only spot where 'something' might be going on." Eric let out a deep sigh. "Call Callen, and send Granger a message," he then said.

"And you?" Nell wanted to know as she already pressed the pre-dial button on the office phone.

"Going to find out who the heck hacked those camera's," he briefly answered.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**the Four-Oh-Five || Los Angeles**

The Ford was a nice car to drive and he'd put the radio on the channel which had all the internal chatter of the agency on it, not really listening but simply keep scanning. He felt his own phone buzzing and Callen used his right hand to get it out of his pocket and one look at the small screen made him respond without any hesitation.

"What've you got, Nell?"  
The brief feeling of being able to befool the CIA man quickly disappeared when he heard what Nell had to say.  
"See if you can find out who's responsible for this," Callen told her. "Oh, and you'd better inform Granger too."

-"_Already did that, of course,"_ Nell said. She managed to hide her worries for the lead agent, knowing he was on his own. _"You should wait for the others to be around, Callen."_ The minute she spoke, she recognized how Hetty addressed him with every single case.  
And suddenly Nell realized that she made her words sound like this because she loved him. She loved him like she would love a big brother, like a mentor she deeply cared for and whom she really admired.

He paused and pondered over the situation. "Inform Kensi and Deeks, tell them to come this way too."

_-"But—"_ She hesitated slightly. _"It will take over an hour, with the jams of this moment, to get there."_

He knew.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**CIA headquarters || Los Angeles**

The soft buzz distracted him from the insignificant discussion he had with Victor Nolan. His eyes darted over the short message.

"Anything going on?" Nolan asked as he noticed the slight change in behavior of the man he once worked for.

Granger shook his head and carefully shove his phone aside. "Nothing important actually. Now, about that couple we were trying to take care of."

"The Johnsons."

"The Johnsons indeed," Granger said. "Like you heard from agent Callen they went missing since last night. We've let all offices known to put out a BOLO for them, including pictures. Yet you haven't mentioned them so far. Did you inform your agents about them at all?"

Nolan narrowed his eyes just a second too long in Granger's opinion. "Of course I did," he then said. "There's this new system, a prototype which might replace Kaleidoscope in future time. We're using it in here. Perhaps you heard of it already – Moonlight Shadow?"

Granger shook his head, then a slow grin appeared on his face. "Well, such a funny coincidence that this enterprise of Abe Johnson is called 'Moonlight' as well." He frowned and continued "What does this program do?"

For a brief moment Nolan looked away, then he was focused again. "It's slightly more sophisticated than Kaleidoscope. It picks up faces, cars, nearby cellphones… it even recognizes voices. All those algorithms together may identify the exact location of the exact person at the exact time. And so far, we haven't found the Johnson's yet."

"So if you, for instance, would want to find agent Sam Hanna, NCIS?" Granger wanted to know.

Nolan seemed to be complete upright when he nodded and turned his computer screen in another angle so Owen Granger could see what he was doing. He started to type the name and in the left, a vertical time taper ticked down faster than any system Granger saw before. Then images came across the screen at the speed of light. Within a minute, four different sub-screens appeared, of which one recent picture of Sam, a copy of his ID and a map of the location. "This should be agent Sam Hanna, located at the Pacific Coast Family Medical Group."

"Impressive," Granger acknowledged.

"So you're one man short," Nolan concluded with a suppressed smile.

Granger looked up into the pale blue eyes and recognized the look. He immediately knew he made a mistake. A minor one, he supposed.

A look on his watch showed that Callen was ahead nearly 20 minutes already, so he might have reached Lawndale by now.  
Slowly, Granger nodded. "Indeed. One man short." He sighed deeply as he rose, and concluded "If there's anything you get to know about Abe and Maureen Johnson, please inform me or my staff, will you?"

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_Thank you for reading. As ever, your reviews, thoughts and all are very welcome!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 12**

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_A/N This is a simple fictional story. Most characters belong to CBS. As for the others: names, places and incidents are made up. Any resemblance to real events or real persons are purely coincidental._

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road**** || Long Beach**

Her mind was in a whirl. The fact that she was in here, right now, was something that seemed to be far from reality, and yet so real. Had there been any indications that Victor Nolan would be around, or Bart Lewis? Or worse, like she experienced, both of them? And it was like she had always known - these two men had been teaming up.

And why, Rebecca thought, why was she in here? Alive. If both of them knew that Rebecca had always suspected that Nolan had been working with Lewis, then what was the use of these two men having her in here. Why now, why like this, why not simply… have her eliminated?

And what was Maureen's role in this case?

She must have dozed off anyway, because all of a sudden Rebecca was startled by footsteps that stopped next to her.

"Ready to play the next part in the game?" Bart Lewis looked down at her. "Because we certainly are."  
He nodded to the man who stood next to him, the one he'd called Andrew. His thick and dark brows hid the expression on his face and for a brief second she had no idea what he was about to do.

Rebecca had been a field operative for years now and she knew the risks of this job. And so far, she'd been able to calculate risks and possibilities.  
Although at this moment she did not really know what to expect, she decided to come into action right here and now. Pressing her body closer to the backside of vessel, she then pushed her legs forward and kicked Andrew full against his kneecap.

The man went down like a log, just like she envisioned. In a flash, her cuffed hands were pushing on the man's neck, surprising the other man and hoping to choke him this way.  
Unfortunately, this action failed miserably. She was too slow and powerless.  
From behind her, there was the sound of the unlocking of a gun. Bart Lewis stepped closer, his weapon drawn and aiming at her. "Face it honey. You are outnumbered as you are. Now, step back and turn around, face to the wall."

She slowly breathed out. Frustration and pain replaced the former sense of being able to escape. With her hands still tied together, Rebecca slowly did what Bart Lewis wanted her to do.  
From the corner of her eye, she noticed how Andrew now got up.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**the Four-Oh-Five || Los Angeles**

For a moment he wondered if he should ask Nell if she could arrange a backup team. LAPD would be fine, or well, LBPD it would be.

-"_Callen? I think Nolan may have been the one who changed the angle of the camera's. You see, Granger kept his line open and-"_

He interrupted Nell's explanation. "What's this about Nolan?"

_-"Nolan told Granger that he has this new system which may be even better than Kaleidoscope and... Oh my God,"_ she then realized.

"What?"

Callen tried to be patient but he had no clue what Nell was talking about.

She even sped up her explanation, rattling by now. _-"He is going to know where you are, maybe he already knows. Because he has this new system. He'll anticipate every step you will be taking. And he will be able to follow Granger without being around and... We'll have to hack the system,"_ she concluded.

In the background Callen heard Eric mutter something about breaking the internet.

As calm as he could, Callen said "Do what you have to do, do it quick and inform Granger." He then disconnected, trusting his co-workers to take the right decisions.

It was at times like this he really missed Hetty and her sharp way of running the office.

He sped up even more, even though he understood by Nell's words that it wouldn't really matter.

His mind was racing with too many facts, possibilities and scenario's, but still, Callen didn't really see the big picture and where to lay the focus. All he realized was that in one way or another, Nolan, Lewis and the Johnson's all were a differently involved in the disappearance of Rebecca.  
And heaven forbid he found her when it was too late…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

She nibbled the nail of her left thumb for a second, thinking about which actions were most important by now.

"You think you can do this, Eric? Cut the system for now, I mean. Or should we wait for Granger, inform director Vance perhaps?"

His jaw showed his determination. "If we have to wait for a formal yes or no, we might be too late. I'll take full responsibility for the action if necessary anyway."

Nell nodded. "Do what you have to do," she responded, then realizing she was repeating the same words Callen had just spoken. She let out a deep sigh and got on her feet again. "We can do this Eric. We have to."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**On the road || Los Angeles**

Then, when he entered the 110, it hit him like a ton of bricks. No matter how slow or fast he would drive, they would knew he was coming. And they'd be prepared for that. Again, Callen called in.

_-"What can I do for you, Callen?"_ Eric's voice came in clear.

"How about the ETA of Kensi and Deeks?"

Slightly stressed as only Eric could sound, the answer came quick _-"They're stuck in traffic Callen. Still over an hour."_

"Granger?" he simply asked.

_-"Ermh... Should be here any moment."_

"See if he can send in SWAT as well. Any possibilities he can avoid CIA?"

_-"We're trying to break this 'Moonlight Shadow'. So far we didn't succeed."_ Eric hesitated a second. _"Nolan will know you're on your way. You got no way to hide."_

"I know, dammit. Doesn't even help I'm driving his car." He hit the dashboard with his left fist to release some of his frustration.

_-"Callen? I'll be right back with you. Let me see what we can do,"_ Eric said, nervously now since he felt the frustration of the team leader. "_Be careful," _he concluded.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road**** || Long Beach**

It was the sound of duct tape being pulled and then ripped off a roll. She recognized it and she understood it was going to be used.  
Rebecca felt the urge to know, although she also realized the truth may hit her hard. "What is it what you want from me?"

There was a chuckle from Lewis coming from close behind her and to her disgust it sounded nearly sympathetic. The answer however puzzled her.

"Nothing. What made you think that we want anything from you?"

* * *

_Thanks again for reading &amp; reviewing!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 13**

* * *

A/N Thanks again for all of you who have the patience to keep reading. There's only some chapters of this storyline left, so please join the ride!

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road**** || Long Beach**

"Wait, wait."

The man had hardly spoken so far and the dark and hoarse voice fitted with him. Strange how her brain registered facts like this.

"This one's for Mike Holmes."  
The raw anger in Andrew's voice should have warned her, yet there was no way she could prepare for the fierce hit with his right fist. He knew what he did as the blow ended exactly on her left shoulder, the one that had been hit in the car crash earlier.  
Rebecca screamed out loud. The pain paralyzed her whole body and there was no way she could fight it. Tears ran over her face freely and then there was the rough way Lewis strapped the tape over her mouth, nearly suffocating her.

Struggling to stay up, Andrew practically dragged her to the steep stairs that would lead one deck up. Once again, Bart Lewis' voice sounded from behind her. "Now, I bet you are just as curious as we all are to find out if our little trick works."

And still she had no clue which little trick this would be.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**On the road || Los Angeles**

_-"I've managed a secure place to wait, Callen. I'm gonna need another quarter of an hour. Use your time wisely. There's this street, South Harbor boulevard, where you'll find the navy parking lot. You can also simply follow the signs that will lead you to the USS Iowa. There won't be any traffic cams. I made a deal with one of our guys in there,"_ Eric instructed. _"If necessary, you can gear up in there."_

He appreciated the way Eric worked hard on getting the technology work for him and meanwhile also was able to plan ahead.  
"Well done. Nolan may think we're looking in the wrong direction. And the moment he realizes 'Moonlight Shadow' will be off line, I'll go where Nell already figured out we should be," Callen concluded.  
Minutes later he pulled over at the gates which fenced the navy check-in point, showed his ID and, exactly like Eric intended, he was allowed to drive the vehicle onto the parking lot.

He parked, got out, opened the trunk of Nolan's car and much to his surprise, a fully loaded Sig rifle was left in there. One he could use.

Callen quickly closed the trunk as he heard someone come walking his way on the tarmacked area. The man addressed him as he came his way. "Special agent Callen?"

He turned to the officer and nodded "Yes."

"Petty officer Roberts, sir. Your co-worker asked me to give you this." Roberts handed him a grey bag, one of the standard issued packages NCIS agents received once they were on duty for the first time with the agency.

There was no use for long conversations and Roberts obviously was one of the officers who realized whenever words were unneeded. "Good luck, sir. Mason, the security officer at the gate, will let you out the moment you request, sir."

"Thanks. Much appreciated, petty officer Roberts," Callen said.  
He waited a minute, then put the bag on the back seat of the Ford. He took out the bulletproof vest, the same he always carried in the back of his own car, and took of his leather jacket. Callen then put the NCIS vest over his blue shirt, adjusted it to his posture and carefully secured the straps to the Velcro on the front panel.

Next step was the thigh-holster, in which he put the provided Ka-bar, just in case. He took the Glock, checked how well it was handled, and put it on the passenger seat. The three extra magazines were clipped in the holster safely as well.

Anxious now, he checked his phone once again. Five minutes left. Callen wondered when Eric would give the definite 'go', and if it was indeed only minutes from now.  
He was about to tug the phone away, when he noticed the incoming message. He quickly checked into the call.

"Kenz?"  
She usually was the one driving. Which meant she might've changed places with Deeks for once.

_-"Yep. Still stuck in here, Callen. Deeks just checked with one of his former LAPD buddies. Apparently they were ordered to keep us in line instead of cooperating and escort us past the standstill."_ Although her voice sounded clear, the annoyance was just as clearly picked up.

Granger responded to the same call.  
-_"Nolan's work,"_ he simply concluded. _"He knows you're part of the team."_

"Still no chance you have another team in here within the next quarter of an hour?" Callen wanted to know.  
The long audible sigh showed the near despair of the assistant director.  
_-"There are two options you have in there, agent Callen. And I suggest you'd choose the second one. Wait."_

Callen smirked when he realized how carefully Granger had chosen his words. He then simply huffed and disconnected.

_-"He's on his own now?"_ Kensi asked.

_-"Lone wolf. Well, we all know he's best at that. Right?"_ Deeks finished.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Nimitz Road**** || Long Beach**

It took some minutes to adjust her breathing. The awful pain made her want to cry, and the duct tape made breathing in and out difficult.  
Again, Lewis had ordered to tie her arms to another of the stairs, one deck higher than she'd been before. Her left shoulder probably was dislocated by now and it was difficult to ban the pain from her system. Rebecca knew she had to, if she wanted to stay alert.

"We're going to have some guest, sweetie, and since I want to have a proper conversation with them, I think it'd be best to not have you interrupting any of our chitchat." Bart Lewis spoke rather matter-of-factly. He sent her an apparent pitiful smile.  
Sure. She already knew he was a liar and someone who could puppeteer lots of people. She knew his dirty tricks by now, even knew them long before today.  
And now, as if he could read her mind, he added "By now you already know it's not about you. No matter how pathetic it may sound, you're just a means to an end. Just in case our 'guest'," and he used his index fingers to show he was quoting, "won't play ball with us."

Then Rebecca heard the voices and she knew.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"See you found me," Bart Lewis said, addressing the tall man who now appeared to feel far from comfortable.

There was a certain tremor and the usually soft but determined voice of Maureen Johnson now sounded whining as she wanted to know from her husband "You knew he was around, Abe? What kind of plans did the two of you make this time?"

There was a short period when none of the other men spoke. Then, it was Lewis again who said "I think you know what we want. And I think Abe told you already."

"Well, actually I didn't tell. I asked you several times, remember?" This was Abe's voice, Rebecca knew.

"I—I don't have it anymore. I sent it. To a friend," Maureen said, hesitating slightly.

The sly voice of Lewis then sounded once again. "And Abe never told you what would happen once you stopped cooperating? Listen, madam oh so perfect security manager, it was your decision to quit your job, knowing we still would need your intel. Your oh so perfect life will get ruined if you stop telling us all the little secrets we need to know, just like you've always let us know. So, it is up you."

"Dammit Maureen. He's right. Our lifes will get ruined. In fact, they already are," Abe said, a bit of desperation seeping through in his voice now.

"You knew, Abe, you knew I couldn't go on with it. I told you, I can't do it no more. You can't force me!" It sounded as if Maureen was nearly in tears now. "The hard drive is gone. I told you already. I sent it to a friend. You asked me to betray our country, years ago. I can't—"

The chuckle for Bart Lewis gave her the creeps. "Yes, you can, dear Maureen. I think we might find a way of making you cooperate. Or at least tell us where the hard drive with the information I want has gone."

He simply gestured the good looking, platinum blond woman to follow. And Abe simply did the same.

Lewis still explained, kept talking "You see… I thought it would be a good thing your life would get shook up. That's why Abe and I made a deal, I'd have that car of yours shot. You'd get scared, you'd be the target, and my CIA buddy Victor Nolan would be there to comfort you. Too bad someone took over that job. Well, we got you out. Yet you still refuse to work with Abe, with me. That's—disappointing Maureen. We all want our income. Part of the deal is your cooperation."

He sent her a sly smirk as he nodded to a dark-haired, compact built man and motioned he'd step away.  
"You see, Maureen, I found the friend in town Abe suggested you should meet. To our surprise, this woman was eager to pay you a visit."

Rebecca now read the fear in Maureen's eyes. It was like a mirror to what she feared what was about to happen herself, too.

"Becca…" Maureen whispered. "I didn't invite you—I never… He did and made it look like I did."

There was no way she could answer, and it didn't matter. Rebecca heard all the things Bart Lewis had told, and from Maureen's answers it was clear enough that so far, she had been a traitor herself. And Rebecca never saw that.

Her thoughts went back to the days she and Maureen had good times, great discussions. It all had been wrong, in the end.

"Andrew? You might try to 'convince' Mrs. Johnson to cooperate now." Bart Lewis simply stood close behind Maureen. Abe Johnson then said "We don't have to do this, do we Bart?"  
"You're a little late to crawl back now, Abe." Again, Lewis motioned the other man to continue.

Without too much of a warning, Andrew stepped closer to Rebecca, his expression again unreadable. He nearly pressed his body against hers and with the only possibility to breathe through her nose, the smell of beer and grease and unwashed skin made her feel sick. She tried to block it and she almost did. Then, again without a warning, he reached for her left hand, tied to the stairs and broke her pink just like that.  
Rebecca nearly choked as there was no way to move away from the pain. She panted, closed her eyes as she needed to revive. Andrew showed no emotion as he simply took the next finger and pulled it back fiercely. She wanted to cry out as a surge of pain shot through her hands again, and her body wanted to crumble down.

"Stop it!" Maureen shouted. "Why you're hurting her?"

Another short chuckle. "She deserves it. Nolan says so. Now she's in town, she'll nail him, he says. She knows too much anyway."

Rebecca shook her head, unable to communicate anyway. Yes, she knew Nolan worked with this man, and yes, she told Granger, years ago.  
There was no time for thinking. Andrew took her hand again, his touch and glare now nearly in adoration. No way to avoid it. No way to block the nauseating pain which was about to come. She needed to try and focus on something good. Or someone good -Callen.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**NCIS Office of Special Projects || Los Angeles**

'Bingo!'  
Mostly, there was a comment from one of the others when he achieved something like he just did. However, looking around, he realized he was the only one around at Ops. After the joyful feeling, he thought shortly and made a decision. Now, his thumbs went over the touchscreen, agile as ever. He sent a secured text to the phones of all of the team members.  
'Cracked 'Moonlight Shadow' for now. Cut phone contacts. Use earwigs only to communicate. All to avoid other hacking systems. Don't want Nolan or Lewis to know of our next steps'.  
Eric smiled broadly after he hit the sent-button. With some adjustments he'd managed to get the cameras back in position. The first thing he noticed was the red mini cooper which was parked next to a grey Ford and an older Toyota Camry. And he knew the owner of that same little red Mini Cooper.

* * *

_Thank you all for reading, once again! There's only one more chapter to come! Your reviews are welcome, as ever...  
_[ Knirbenrots]


	14. Chapter 14

**Forget Today**

**Chapter 14**

* * *

_A/N Sorry to have to tell you this really IS the final chapter of this story. Skippy, and all the others, thanks again for reviewing._

* * *

Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is this storyline and its original characters.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Again, Maureen yelled "Stop it! Stop. I—If you make Andrew stop hurting Rebecca, I will tell you. Please…"

Her pleading was interrupted by a short series of beeps, which made Bart Lewis look at the phone he took from the pocket of his jacket. He read a message, then grinned and turned his attention to Abe Johnson.

"It's that mighty new system of Victor, 'Moonlight Shadow'. It works like charm. Like we know now that the agents NCIS sent are checking at South Harbor boulevard. On the other hand, I've got the feeling we should, how shall I say, we should hurry a little, partner."

The other man spat "I'm not your partner, Lewis. Someone who tries to blackmail me and my wife, that's who you are."

"Now-now, Abe. I never tried. I just do," Bart Lewis chuckled. It sounded so surreal, like he had all the fun. "All those years when you were making a living, and all I had to do was to push the right button. Just like mister Snow is doing with miss Belgrave right now. Too bad, don't you think, that she never wanted to accept your part of the story, Abe. No, this stubborn agent stuck her nose in our business long ago. We're lucky Victor managed to mislead their operation manager in the past." Lewis now addressed Rebecca. "So, you chose the wrong side. No one ever believed your story, honey."

Although his words sounded so sincere, they came with a grim smile which she knew meant no good.

"I did." Maureen tried.

Her husband countered "For once I wished you hadn't…"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

She was the last person Callen expected to see in here. On the other hand, Victor Nolan never considered her as one of the team.

Nell Jones had been the one who could reach this place the quickest and she'd known it. Despite the Tylenol, her head throbbed and driving the car was a challenge as it was.

She gestured to the agent in charge that she would need to gear up before she could be of any assistance. He understood and agreed to wait a little longer.

"Eric's got ears and eyes already," she said in a hushed voice, "he now sends a fake signal back."

"Good thing." He faced the younger, petite, red haired co-worker, and he appeared to be more nervous than she was used to see. "This is the place, you think?" Callen then asked.

She looked up at him, then lay her small hand on his forearm and nodded. "It is. We can do this, right?"

He hesitated for a second. It wasn't Nell he was worried about. It was the worry of what they might find...

"Right," he confirmed. "We have to, let's go," he urged.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

It had been the man's boots that had kicked Rebecca several times.  
"Right. You want to share now, Maureen?" Bart Lewis asked. "Or you think your friend in here needs to ask you too?"

"I told you, I-"

At Lewis' nearly invisible nod, Andrew blew another hit at Rebecca's left shoulder. Pain fired through her whole body now and for some short seconds, darkness took over. Then she was back in pain and for once, Rebecca wished she'd go out.

"New Orleans!" Maureen yelled. "It's sent to New Orleans."

"Now then. That wasn't that difficult at all, was it." Again, Bart Lewis' voice sounded sly.

It was Maureen's husband who asked "Who's the friend in New Orleans?"

"She is," Maureen answered, motioning toward Rebecca. "I'm so sorry Becca," she then started sobbing, "sorry for dragging you into this mess."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen nodded to Nell, then tapped the microphone and spoke "We're good to go, Eric."

_-"Right. Let me talk you in. This vessel has got five different decks. From the pings I could get from Lewis' phone, communication came from the fourth deck. You should be able to enter on the front, first hatch. Three sets of stairs."_ Eric sounded calm now, knowing he was in control of this situation.

"Any updates of the others?" Nell wanted to know.

_-"Granger still has his phone recording, so there's even more evidence to nail Nolan. He's got assistance from the DOD already. And I managed to get Abrahams of LAPD get Deeks and Kensi your way by air. Their chopper should be there in—"_ he paused to check another system _"—about 8 minutes from now."_

The faraway scream of a woman alerted them. Callen noticed how Nell's gaze went over his face and he simply shook his head. He tapped his systems so only she heard "Gut feeling there's no time to waste. We need to go, now."

He turned on the system again. "We're going in, Eric."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Another deck down, they heard a phone ring and some 'yes' and no's.  
The same voice sounded "That was Nolan. Something is wrong. He told us to get rid of the evidence."

Again, a woman shouted "No!"

It was more than intuition. Their guns drawn, Nell and Callen hurried to the next set of hatches.

Three men and a woman, standing as a group, discussing. It had been Maureen whose voice they heard. "The Johnsons!" Nell whispered, not able to hide her surprise.

Callen nodded, then his shoulders slumped in fear. He'd known it, sensed it. Loving someone meant there was a weak spot. The fear of losing.

Becca…

Two guns were aimed at her and heck, they had to act quick.

"Shoot!" he hissed, and with his warning 'Federal Agents!' gunshots cracked.

A short yell. "No!" and then, the shooting stopped just as soon as it started.

There was Abe Johnson's soft cry "No! Maureen!"

_-"Nell?"_ The worried voice of Eric came in. There had been so many shots, so much shouting, and he needed to know.

"I'm okay, Eric," she calmly answered. She quickly observed the situation. The dark haired man Callen shot was down, probably dead. She hurried to the other one. Two bullets had hit him and Nell noticed she'd been a terrible shooter. The man was bleeding terribly from his lower belly.  
"The bitch…" he sighed.  
She quickly disarmed him, knowing he was no danger anymore. The same went for Abe Johnson who sat, kneeled, to touch his wife's face.  
"We'll need ambulances, Eric," Nell called her co-worker.

_-"Callen?"_ Eric now asked, again worried.

"Not him. Rebecca." She heard Eric sighing in relief, glad the agent in charge was okay.  
Nell bit her lower lip. This was not what she had expected, not at all. Whatever happened in here, it had been nasty and unexpected. Maureen had wanted to prevent the men to shoot Rebecca, and got shot and killed herself.  
Nell finally dragged her eyes away from the lifeless body of Maureen Johnson. Nobody had to check for a pulse - the bullet had blown away most of the woman's throat.

The other woman however looked in a terrible shape. Dried blood from a gash which matted her soft brown hair to her face. That wasn't all. There was fresh blood, there were traces of smudged mascara beneath her eyes and the once fancy blue dress was completely ruined.

"Callen…" Nell tried.

He was already there, using the Kabar to cut the cuffs that held her wrists. If in another situation, he knew Rebel would have fought her way out. Not this time. She must've been weaker than he thought.

It was the way her eyes locked on his, slowly blinking. Pain and exertion, fear – he read it all. "It's going to be alright Rebel," he said in a soft voice. He broke the gaze, feeling nauseous when he realized the poor situation she was in.

Several minutes later, he simply sat with her. Despite the fact he had removed the tape, not a single word had sounded. A single shudder and all he felt was fear, his right hand now wet with what he knew was her blood.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

**Pacific Coast Family Medical Group || a week later**

Dressed in a pair of dark leggings, white sneakers and a wide, white blouse the woman who walked in the greenish corridors of the hospital looked younger and far more fragile than she really was.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?" The large man leaned against the wall and the broad smile which came with deep dimples, disappeared quickly as he read it in her dark and grey eyes.  
Her eyes widened and her far too pale face made her look so vulnerable.  
"You were…Becca. Does G know?" Sam asked. He was sure this was complete against medical advice and he nearly huffed as he'd seen his partner disappear like that many times.

Rebecca tried to shrug, but pins and cast prevented her left side to do so. "He knows. He understands. It's just one more thing I need to do, Sam. Some unfinished business," she said.

He squinted his chocolate brown eyes just a little. "You sure he understands? Because… Well, there's no way you can simply walk away from this all," Sam said as he stepped toward her, worried now for how she'd hurt Callen.

"She wouldn't walk away without me knowing it." Callen's voice came from behind him. "In fact, I asked her to come. It'll be alright Sam.

"Be back safe then," he responded in relief. "Oh and G, just a word please?"

He sent his partner a half smile. "You know you sound just like Hetty now, you realize that Sam?" He nodded at Rebecca and she understood that he needed to talk to his friend in private. Both men watched how she returned to the room she'd stayed in these past few days.

"You're worried," Callen said as he eyed his partner. "But this is something she has to do. And I know she can."

"Wanna share? Because what I see is someone who's far less strong than I remember. Someone who is struggling with the aftermath of some horrifying torture. I really doubt she's been properly debriefed. You sure she's seen someone?"

Callen sighed deeply. "This talking thing… doesn't work for her. Besides, she told Granger she's cancelling her appliance. Frankly, I think we need a break."

"A break, huh? So tell me, what did you plan?" Sam asked.

"New Orleans. Rebel—" He corrected himself. "Becca must have received a parcel in there, sent to her by Maureen Johnson. It's more than evidence, it's the closure of a case she never wanted to be in. In fact… so far, Los Angeles hasn't been too fair on her. I'll be back the moment you're cleared for active duty, buddy." He tapped his partner's strong underarm.

Then Sam realized Callen finally found it.  
Somebody who'd watch his back, someone who would be there and who understood. And the other way around. Someone he'd be able to be around for, someone who'd help her sleep. Notwithstanding how Hetty always warned them not to the personal get in the way of the professional, Sam noticed how well Callen handled the fact that they were wrapped up together…

He smiled as he noticed how Rebecca joined his partner and Callen reached for her hand, guided her and they simply left.

/0\\\

"Nobody Sees"

Who's gonna pick you up?

Who's gonna bend your rules?

Who's gonna be your prop?

Who's gonna play your fool?

Nobody know just how it feels today

Nobody sees how our hearts break

Who's gonna watch your back?

Who's gonna reel you in?

Who'll make surprise attacks?

Who's gonna be there at the end?

Nobody knows just how it feels today

Nobody sees how our hearts break

Who's gonna bring you round?

Who's gonna let you sleep?

Who's gonna break frown?

Who's gonna fall down at your feet?

Nobody knows...

~PowderFingers~

* * *

_Thank you all for reading. Please leave your thoughts, reviews and comments in here, they're ever so welcome..._


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